Dangerverse 2031: Desi Destroya Chronicles Pt 1
by Scarlett-MacCuinn
Summary: My Chemical Romance Danger Days Killjoys Fan-Fiction. Desi Destroya, a former BL/ind citizen, is a rising legend in the Zones. Labeled 'Miss Party Poison', she'll take on any fight, and never give up. Follow her story as she fights S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W and bands together with the Fabulous Killjoys and the Danger Days Army. Marked M for language and possible sexual situations.
1. Ch 1 This Is How I Dissappear

**Chapter One:** This Is How I Disappear

Desi 'Dizzy' Destroya looked out across the desert from the roof of the abandoned convenience store, alert and border-line paranoid. It had been eighteen days since she had last seen her man alive and well. She was alone, and could no longer tell you the number of times she had nearly been ghosted by BL/ind's minions.

Desi checked her watch, a trusty solar Timex, and sighed. It would be hours before Dr. D's next broadcast, and she was bored. She hadn't seen a S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. anywhere near her hideout for days. If what had happened to Rasta Blasta had not made her spooks in every shadow, she would have believed that she was safe.

Dr. Death Defying had said the Fabulous Killjoys were on the move, hunting out recruits for their Danger Days army, stopping at every abandoned strip mall, petrol station, and convenience store; but Desi hadn't seen the Trans Am, or any other vehicle remotely resembling a part of the Killjoy convoy. Nothing but Rasta's bike, painted his colors in red, green, and yellow, with Desi's thunder bolt glossed on the right side of the windshield.

Suddenly, Desi's radio crackled. She rolled and pointed her laser gun at the sound, only to realize, with the sound of Dr. Death D's gravelly voice rolling out, that she was getting trigger happy. She rolled her eyes at herself, and zeroed in on the surprise broadcast.

"Listen up! All you crash queens and motor babies out there, we're calling you in. Somewhere on Route Guano, we're gonna be setting up a meet for all those Killjoys we've been missing in our runs. Get there fast, and you all better know how to shoot fast, and shoot to kill, 'cause we're making our move, sooner than later.

"You'll know the place when you find it, folks. Just look for the spider's nest." Dr. D's chuckle crackled out of the speakers. Ever since the incident at Better Living Industries Headquarters, he'd started using code, to further protect every Killjoy out there. "This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off. Remember, keep your boots tied, your gun close, and die with your mask on if you have to. Killjoys, make some noise!"

For a moment, feedback squealed, and then 'Planetary' came bursting out of the speakers. Desi cracked a smile for the first time since she and Rasta Blasta had gotten separated. The Fabulous Killjoys were calling them all home. And from Dr. Death D's code, as well as the American Anthem riff in the guitar solo, Desi knew exactly what to look for. The spider graffiti, somewhere near a flag still flying that wasn't branded with BL/ind's logo.

Maybe she'd find Blasta there. Desi hoped he'd escaped and gotten his ass to safety after the clap with the Dracs, and that the Killjoys had found him. She couldn't stand the thought of the alternative path events might have taken. If she let herself think about that, she'd get slow, and she'd get ghosted. Then where would Rasta be if he'd managed to survive?

A tumble weed blew down the highway, and Desi jumped. _Damnit, _she thought to herself, _I haven't slept more than four hours at a stretch since we got separated, and I've been up for three days. I need to sleep, or I'm gonna shoot Party Poison the instant he steps out from his hiding place when I show up at the meet tomorrow. _And considering the massive crush Desi had had on him before Rasta Blasta had stolen her heart, that fact would humiliate her for life.

So, Desi rearranged the rolled-up ball of hoodie and motorcycle jacket that Rasta had left lying by the bed the morning the Dracs attacked, and laid down to attempt a few hours of sleep.

_Desi snuggled closer to Rasta as they lay under the dark California sky, safe on the roof of the abandoned motel."I think it's almost sad that the Fabulous Killjoys' HQ is a rusted out diner in the middle of nowhere."_

_Rasta chuckled, hugging her closer. "Well, my crash queen, have you ever heard that that diner is the safest place in California? All four or the Fabulous Killjoys are in one place, and I hear Dr. D is great with a shotgun." he said._

_"It's not the safety, Rasta. When I'm with you, I don't even need one Fabulous Killjoy to watch my back," she replied. "It's about being cramped under a roof. There's no sky. Ever since I left the BL/ind life behind, I can't sleep without a blanket of sky. Even if it's the only way to be safe, I toss and turn all night."_

_"Then you would throw a royal fit if those rumors about moving the Killjoy HQ into Montana were true. The winters are mighty nippy." Rasta joked._

_"You know the Killjoys would hate snow as much as me. They drive around in a topless Trans Am." Desi retorted._

_"As always, you've got to be right, my Dizzy girl." Rasta said, and kissed her forehead._

_"I swear, as long as we live, you are the only person who could ever call me Dizzy without a good deck to the face." _

_"I get away with everything, girl. That's why you can run away with me anytime you want." A shiver ran down Desi's spine. Rasta didn't get very wordy about his affections unless he was worrying. She forced down the worry, and resolved to be on guard, too. Until something happened, though, Desi would simply enjoy being around Rasta._

_"That's great, hun, 'cause you're stuck with me. I promise, when our time comes, we'll march together in the Black Parade." Desi smiled, and kissed Rasta, sinking into his body._

_When he finally pulled away, Rasta Blasta spoke. "You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive. I will always find you, no matter how many miles of desert I have to crawl along."_

_"I will always be waiting. And, I just might find you first."_

_Desi and Rasta were jolted awake by the telltale clean sound of a S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. blaster charging up. They both grabbed their own blasters and aimed for the sound. The quick movement saved their lives, since the fabric of Rasta's jacket, which they'd used for a pillow, now had a smoldering singe from the laser blast._

_Also, one of the five Dracs was now lying dead on the ground, singe marks on both his face and chest. If there hadn't been four other enemies, Desi would have high-fived Rasta right then and there._

_They both shot wildly, and quickly took down two Dracs. The others rushed them, firing wildly. Desi felt a searing pain in her ribs and her vision went black from the hit. When Desi's sight cleared a few moments later, the Dracs were dragging Blasta towards the roof ladder. He was unconscious, and the shoulder of his shirt was smoking._

_Desi drew her blaster at unbelievable speed and fired at the Dracs, but it was harder to aim because she didn't want to hit Rasta Blasta in the crossfire. She ran to edge of the roof, shooting at the Dracs and their motorbikes until her gun powered down, needing time to recharge._

_As the Draculoids loaded Rasta onto one of the motorbikes and drove away, Desi's heart started to feel as if it was tearing in two. She still pointed her useless gun at the motorbikes as they pulled away from the motel, pulling the trigger again and again, hoping for a miracle. But it was futile. Miracles only came in the form of a Killjoy Cavalry, and Desi knew no one would come for Rasta and her. _

_The desert's flat terrain was a blessing of warfare, but a curse to her breaking heart. Desi could still see them several long minutes later when her laser whined, signaling that it had recharged. But they were merely tiny specks now, and she couldn't even see the bright colors of Rasta's clothing anymore._

_Right now, Desi felt as though she was dying. There was nowhere for her emotions and grief to go. There were no Dracs around to kill, no Killjoys to bicker with, and no pirate radio broadcast to sing along to at the top of her lungs. All her pain welled up inside, and forced itself out as a scream, a scream of a woman who had been told her warrior wasn't coming home, of a soul losing its other half. _

"RASTA!" Desi sat up in the lightning quick motion she was known for, and fired her blaster at an imaginary Drac standing over her.

"Sheesh… I guess it's a good thing I know not to stand too close to a Killjoy in the middle of a nightmare, or my fro would have a big 'ole hole in it." Desi jumped at the voice, pointing her blaster. The only reason she didn't shoot was because enemies like Korse and the Dracs would have shot first, asking questions never.

Near the service ladder that lead to the ground below, there stood a female Killjoy, with a small afro (small in the way of afros, anyway) and a feather earring. Her skin was dark, like milky cocoa, and her eyes were full of the sauce and spitfire Killjoy girls were known for. She wore a fluorescent pink, loose crop top paired with a neon yellow tutu skirt over bright green leggings. On her feet were poorly tied black canvas high tops, while a pair of scuffed blue roller skates dangled by the laces in her left hand. Two bright red blasters sat in a white cowboy holster on her hips.

Desi slowly replaced her gun into the thigh holster on her leg. She may be a Killjoy, but with the eighteen, no, nineteen days Desi had had, she didn't trust anyone right now. "Who the hell are you?" Desi asked.

"Such a crabby Killjoy! But I'll forgive you, 'cause you look _rough, _and I did sneak up on you." The girl with the afro had a gravelly voice like she had spent too much time screaming into the wind with the radio.

Desi wanted to like the girl, she seemed amiable enough, but it was difficult. "I asked you a question."

The girl jumped, and dashed over to Desi. She stuck out her hand, which was covered in a black fingerless glove that matched the rainbow of jelly bracelets on her other wrist. "Nice to meet you, and sorry about sneaking up on you, by the way." Desi ignored the hand, keeping hers near her blaster holster. The girl frowned, and quickly took her hand back. "I'm Candy Bang-Bang. Jeez, you're pretty twitchy. Been on your own long?"

"Nineteen days, and I started off pretty rough. And I'm Desi, Desi Destroya." The girl lit up, and started bouncing up and down on her toes.

"Oh my gosh, you're a legend around here! Why didn't I recognize your blaster? Damn, it's got the thunder bolt and everything." While she was dancing around, Desi picked up Rasta Blasta's hoodie and singed jacket, dusted herself off and headed for the service ladder. _I don't care a bit if I'm a legend. Razor's crew was notorious for a million things, not many of them good, _Desi thought to herself. _Besides, I have somewhere to be. _

"Wait!" Candy squealed. "Where are you going?" She asked, running along behind Desi.

"I have somewhere to be." Desi replied.

"Oh, you caught the broadcast, too?" Desi was contemplating reneging on her first opinion of Candy. The girl had seemed to be a spitfire, one of the 'keep up with the boys' types. Now, she was starting to look like she belonged in a pack of bubblegum.

"Yep. Gonna see if I can find…" Desi trailed off. "Someone. We got separated when Dracs attacked. And, hey, if I can't find him, at least I'll be around comrades. I might get enough sleep to stop trying to ghost Killjoys every time I turn around because my nerves are fried."

Candy sobered. "I can see why you're on edge. It's not good for a Killjoy to go lone ranger, especially a heartbroken one."

"Who said I was heartbroken?"

"No one. Just your face as soon as you were really awake, the way you handle that jacket. Like you were keepin' it safe for somebody that matters. You can't forget the fact that you woke up screaming a Killjoy's name." Candy looked out at the desert sunrise, her eyes mournful. It looked like she'd seen her fair share of heartbreak. "I can't promise to be your Tonto, but you can roll with me and my gang 'til we meet up with the Fabulous Killjoys and the Danger Days army."

Desi looked down at the roller skates in Candy's hand. "Thanks for the offer, but if those skates are how you roll, I'll have to pass. We stole a motorbike off a couple of dead Dracs a while back, and I'm looking after it for Rasta."

Candy looked at her skates. "Oh, these? We only use the skates when we're scouting things out. We've got a van, and I was planning on finding a bike myself." She looked at me again. "It looks like you can count on one hand how many hours you've slept in the last week, Desi. He must have really mattered to you."

Desi shrugged into Rasta's jackets, savoring his subtle and spicy smell surrounding her. She noticed that the scent was fading, and soon she wouldn't even have that last comfort. Just memories.

She hoped that she would find Rasta alive and well, soon. She refused to believe that he was dead. "He's the only hope for me. I wouldn't want to be here if I knew he got ghosted. That's why I can't let myself think he's not out there." Desi started climbing down the ladder, and Candy talked over the edge of the roof at her.

"Don't worry. Fate may have let BL/ind win one round, but the Fabulous Killjoys practically came back from the dead! You'll find him." Candy smiled and fiddled with her feather earring until Desi hopped to the ground. Candy quickly clambered down the ladder, and the two of them headed for the motorbike.

"So, you looked pretty confused when I said you were a legend. But, you haven't asked about it." Candy asked.

Desi shrugged, and kept walking. "I used to run with an infamous crew."

Candy stopped in her tracks. "I'm starting to wonder if you're the same Desi that everyone talks about. They compared you to Party Poison. Won't back down from any fight and totally unstoppable. Now you aren't even acting like a Killjoy. Where's the kick-ass? If we were all like you in the end, we'd kill ourselves by sleeping in."

Desi reached her bike and turned around. "I left my family behind the day I abandoned BL/ind. If I'd tried to open their eyes, I'd have ended up exterminated before I even left Battery City. Then, the guy who saved my life the first time I ran into a S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. snare got snatched by Dracs and I have no idea if he's alive. Where do _you _think the kick-ass is?"

Candy put her hands on her hips. "Oh, let's end the pity party! BL/ind kidnapped Lil' Killjoy to lead the Fabulous Killjoys into a trap. They still ran in, guns blazing, and practically died for her, because they _cared_! If you love this Killjoy so much, honor his life or death, whatever it's gonna be, by keeping your boots tied, your gun close, and dying with your mask on if you have to. You're a Killjoy! Art is power! Channel all your pain to anger, all your love to determination, before you end up as another mushy."

Desi's hand strayed to her blaster. "Look, kiddo, you don't know me. Shit happens. What will they take from you? Almost everything. Then you'll be in my shoes."

"Never," Candy started, "will I end up like you, Desi Destroya. Being a Killjoy is about hope, and you've lost yours. I will never lose hope that we can save everyone from BL/ind, and I will never believe that we can be defeated. We have the power, even if BL/ind has control."

Desi pulled her dust goggles off of her neck and up over her eyes. "Whatever, Candy. Now, if you'll let me leave, I have a place to be." She readjusted the kerchief tied around her neck, and straddled the bike.

"We know where the meet is, and we'll take you there, if you want." Candy had one of her blasters in her hand, spinning the gun around her finger.

Desi sighed. "Sure," she said, "Might as well save time, since you are likely on the verge of telling me that the Fabulous Killjoys will kick my ass back into its supposedly legendary shape."

Candy perked up. "Most definitely! Now, we should probably both get going. We're just down the road a bit, towards Route Guano."

Desi twisted the throttle on her bike, and the engine roared to life. "Hey, since your skates probably can't keep up with the bike, you might as well hop on."

Candy bounded over and crawled onto the bike. "Bear hug!" She squealed, and held on tight as Desi peeled out, leaving the smell of burning rubber in her wake.

_The only thing I ever regretted about Rasta and his bike,_Desi thought to herself, _is that Dracs don't need CD players, or radios. BL/ind sucks._ But, soon enough Candy compensated, pulling out a handheld CD player and plugging an ear bud into Desi's ear, nearly making her wreck the bike before they were even out of sight from the convenience store. But, it was worth it, in her opinion, as Destroya, the song she took her Killjoy name from, flooded her eardrums.

The miles flew by, and suddenly, Candy tapped Desi on the shoulder, signaling she take the left turn coming up. Soon, Desi could make out the outlines of a distant vehicle further down the new road. As they drew closer, she could see that a crowd of people surrounded the van, all of them milling around and talking amongst themselves. It also appeared that they had a stereo blasting, because a small group of Killjoys were dancing around and having air guitar competitions.

The next thing she knew, the guards keeping watch for the cluster of rowdy Killjoys signaled the rest of them that Desi was coming. For a moment, they looked hostile, until they noticed the bright colors adorning her bike.

Desi came to a stop about twenty feet away from the Killjoys, and both she and Candy climbed off the bike. Desi pushed her goggles up onto her forehead and pulled her kerchief off of her mouth. The desert was wonderfully warm and dry, the dust from her bike quickly settling around her. Candy danced forward, shouting. "Guess what, Killjoys! I brought us a legend!"

Of course, murmurs immediately raced across the crowd like wildfire. A doubtful Killjoy spoke up immediately though. "What legend? Everyone knows the Fabulous Killjoys always travel together. And that they're all boys," the stranger said, looking Desi up and down, from her untied combat boots to her lime-green, pleated, plaid miniskirt to the rough-cut red bob of hair that hung around her face, barely reaching her chin. "Not that you being a girl is a bad thing, miss." Desi couldn't decide if she wanted to grimace or smile. 'Miss' was practically an ancient term these days, and hardly any Killjoy girl was a lady.

Candy sighed dramatically. "Okay, not _the_ legends, but a close one. You know how many people in this crowd have heard of Desi Destroya, Miss Party Poison herself." Candy cast a sideways glance at Desi, seeming to add a silent comment to her. Her eyes said, _I'm telling these people who you are, so you better start acting like yourself again, and damn fast, too._

Killjoys all through the crowd let out whooping cheers, and the chant of 'Destroya, Destroya" was started up. Desi was contemplating basking in the glory (the right of any Killjoy), or taking the modest route and telling them they were overdoing it, when someone started to push their way through the crowd. Silence fell in favor of curiosity as the newcomer elbowed his way to the front.

A Killjoy boy, wearing black skinny jeans, green motocross boots, and a faded gray shirt with a hand drawn dreadlocked jester emblazoned on the front, stepped forward. His dark brown-red hair was short, and he had rolled up a yellow bandana and wrapped it around his forehead. One ear was gauged with an old pinky ring, and the other held a pirate-like brass hoop. He had green eyes, unmistakable eyes, eyes that nearly glowed in the desert sunlight...


	2. Ch 2 The Sharpest Lives

**Chapter Two:** The Sharpest Lives

Rasta Blasta, alive.

He was alive!

Desi couldn't believe her eyes. The man she'd thought dead, when she couldn't silence her fears, was alive. She had spent the last nineteen days grieving for him, the only Killjoy to truly have her heart, and he was right there, alive and breathing. Rasta was conscious, safe, and definitely not a Draculoid. Desi was frozen with shock. Her mind was screaming. _Go to him, stupid! Jump into his arms and kiss him like a woman who thought she'd never see her man again alive. He's your soul mate. _Killjoys didn't doubt their hearts as much as people had back before BL/ind. Life was too short to break hearts, and to doubt was to spend useless seconds not living life to the fullest.

But no matter what her head was screaming, her eyes were telling her something else. His eyes were shadowed, and doubtful. It almost seemed like she was coming back from the dead to him, too. Only he was in even more disbelief than she was.

"Dizzy?" Rasta asked. He seemed worried, like if he dared touch her, she'd turn out to be a ghost. The look in his eyes told her too much. Rasta had been haunted by as many nightmares as Desi had, and they were probably more than flashbacks. He'd told her once, that before he started spending his nights under the sky with her, that he'd woken up every night, shaking from nightmares.

Desi swallowed. It was suddenly like the desert itself had crawled into her throat. "Ra-" she paused, licking her dried out lips. "Rasta?"

The change in him wasn't absolute, and it wasn't obvious. He didn't break out into his usual infectious grin, but the weight hanging his shoulders was suddenly lifted, and some of the shadows fled his eyes, to be replaced by a bittersweet happiness that spoke of his grief and his love all at once. His arms reached out, and finally, Desi's body became unglued. She dashed into his arms, and he pulled the cliché move she'd seen once with him on an old DVD when they'd shared the abandoned motel. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around.

He kissed her, just once on the lips, and that was all he had to say.

"I'd thought you'd died, Ros. I wouldn't let myself believe it, but I was almost sure you were dead." Desi whispered fiercely into Rasta's ear as she held him tight.

Rasta gently pulled her away to look into her ocean blue eyes. "You know that even being called to march in the black parade could not have stopped me from coming back to say goodbye, at the very least." He said it with such conviction; no one could have denied that he meant every word.

Desi slowly slid down Rasta's body to place her feet on the dusty desert ground. "You'd be ashamed of who I've been the past few days. I was losing hope in everything. I almost forgot what it means to be a Killjoy..." She trailed off, and buried her face in his shirt, fighting tears.

A hand gently brushed her hair. "I could never be ashamed of you, Dizzy," Rasta said. "Even if I was gone, you would have snapped out of it and given BL/ind everything you had. Three cheers for sweet revenge, even though seeing you alive is even better than I could have hoped for. I was just as unsure about you, as you were about me, Desi." Rasta laid his head on hers, and they simply stood there together, glad to know they were safe, alive, and together.

A tap on Desi's shoulder ended the quiet moment. "I don't want to interrupt you," Candy whispered. "But, my sister wanted to see you, and all the Killjoys are anxious to go meet up with the Fabulous Killjoys."

Desi peeled herself away from Rasta to face Candy, only to have him grab her hand, threading his fingers between hers. "Well, it seems this man is unlikely to let me out of his sight anytime soon, so she'll have to see us both." Candy smiled.

"No biggie, and besides, I think everyone will give it some slack, since those poor eyes don't look so hollow anymore. We might have the real Desi back." She spun on her heel and called over her shoulder as she walked away. "Alright, you two. This way."

Desi and Rasta followed Candy around the crowd and behind the large RV that she had earlier thought was a van. The thing was huge. Twelve feet tall and fifteen feet long, it could easily carry a good fifteen Killjoys. Fitting the crowd surrounding the RV inside would be a bit of a squeeze, but it was possible.

"That monster must get horrible miles for all the petrol it would need," Rasta chimed in.

Candy talked over her shoulder as she replied, "It's electric, actually. BL/ind used to use it for transporting unconscious Killjoys to a Drac brainwashing site. Until we stole it, and a load of about twenty Killjoys, almost all of which stuck with our gang once they woke up. It needs recharged pretty often, but BL/ind won't send workers out into the Zones to kill the power grids. Too much risk, or something like that.

"Well, here we are," Candy said as she led us around the back end of the RV, to reveal a battered green 1968 Mustang. Growing up BL/ind, Desi didn't know much about cars. But, Lithium Razor, the leader of the infamous crew she and Rasta had been in, was a fanatic, and the only member of the team who had a vehicle with four wheels.

Leaning on the hood of the Mustang was, Candy? Well, someone who looked almost exactly like her. Except she was about two inches taller and wore a tight, fluorescent purple tank, with a Day-Glo yellow blaster in a shoulder holster and a paint-splattered pair of BL/ind worker coveralls that were rolled down to her hips. Her feet were covered in a pair of motocross boots similar to Rasta's, except that they were electric blue. This girl had a bleached streak in her afro going from her left temple all the way to the nape of her neck, and a bright purple braid curved around her right ear, hanging down her chest. She also had a feather earring, only in her left ear, unlike Candy.

The only other thing that stood out about her was the laughing skull tattooed on her left arm. You didn't see many Killjoys with tattoos these days, because few people knew how to do them were around anymore.

The girl turned to face them as they approached, and reached out a hand. "I'm Shasta De/Tox, Candy's older sister, and I keep this gang in line. I've seen your man around, but I never got the chance to meet him. I got the impression he's pretty mysterious." As Desi reached out to shake Shasta's hand, she noticed her eyes. They were brown and full of spunk and 'kick-ass' as Candy described it. But she seemed weathered, more so than most Killjoys, like she'd looked the hell California had become straight in the face, and seen all its darkness. But way she spoke and the firm hand-shake she gave Desi told her she was still full of Killjoy hope and ready to stir up some chaos to give BL/ind.

"Oh, Ros isn't mysterious. You should have met Silent Apocalypse. The only thing the guy ever said to me was his name. And he was the scariest Killjoy in my gang." Desi said, as Rasta took his turn shaking Shasta's hand.

"I'm Rasta Blasta," he said. "Not mysterious, just withdrawn. I was dealing with the idea that I might've lost my crash queen." Rasta smiled, and looked at Desi. "But, as you can see, all's well now." Shasta nodded.

"So no more vibes that are gonna bum out my Killjoys, right?" Rasta nodded an affirmative, and came to stand behind Desi, with his arms around her. "Good." Shasta focused her gaze on Desi. "You are climbing up the ranks of legend, my girl. Better make yourself worth their praise."

Desi nodded. "I'll do my best, just had a bad couple of weeks. I should be ready to chase into a clap and make some noise just like everyone is expecting me to, any day now."

"Okay, vital business has been dealt with." Shasta uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on the hood of the Mustang, and standing up. "Do either of you two want a beer?"

"Sure." Rasta said.

"No, thanks," Desi piped up. "You got a soda around here, though?" she asked.

"Anything for Miss Party Poison," Shasta looked to Candy. "Can you go get us some drinks, please?" Desi's eyebrows rose. In a world of chaos, terror, and kids who grew up too fast, manners were rare.

As Candy bounded off, Shasta started talking again. "So you're heading for the meet?" When Desi nodded an affirmative, she sighed. "If I hadn't heard Dr. D himself tell us over the radio, I wouldn't trust the info. Searching out Killjoys in their own hideouts is all right, 'cause they negotiate on their safe ground. Calling us all out to some random location... It's not right."

"But, you've got a huge group of Killjoys. You can overpower a squad of Dracs, right?" Desi asked.

"Not when only about a dozen of us have got guns." Shasta replied.

"Crap." Rasta said.

"Wait!" Desi exclaimed. "The convenience store I've been squatting for the past week or so has a BL/ind distribution unit. Candy probably didn't notice because she found me before she finished scouting out the building."

Shasta zeroed in on Desi. "Great news," she said icily. "do you have a Vend-a-Hack stashed somewhere on that bike of yours? We sure don't."

Desi's shoulders drooped. "No." Lithium Razor had been the only one he'd trust with the precious item, and had taken it with him when their group disbanded.

"Actually," Rasta started, "we've got something even better." he continued, beginning to hunt around in his leather jacket while Desi was still wearing it. "That is, unless my girl here lost the Drac IDs we found in the stash box when we stole the bike." As he said that, he squeezed her waist, trying to show her he was joking. Desi was ticklish, but of course, Rasta knew that, and wasn't surprised at all when she jumped six inches in the air.

"A-ha!" Rasta exclaimed a few moments later, pulling out two plastic cards. They were a lot like BL/ind citizen IDs, but the only thing that was different was that there was no picture. Just three letters, followed by a nine digit code covered the front, with a barcode and magnetic strip on the back.

"So, I guess we should grab a couple of Killjoys and head back to that convenience store with you," Shasta said as Candy came back around the RV with an armful of cans.

As she passed Desi, she handed her a cola, and tossed a beer at Rasta. Candy leaned against the hood of the Mustang with her sister. They all drank from their respective cans in the comfortable silence that tended to happen among Killjoys, especially around food.

Shasta finished her beer, crushing the can in her fist and tossing the remains into a trash can that was attached to the back of the RV.

"Nice throw." Desi commented, since it was a fifteen foot toss.

"Thanks," Shasta replied, and turned to her sister. "We may have a way to get more guns out to the Killjoys. Do you have a crew in mind to drag along? We only need about two, since we're taking the 'Stang."

Candy pulled a straw out of a hiding place somewhere, and stuck it in her cherry soda. As she appeared to run through the Killjoy roster in her head, she sipped thoughtfully at the can. "Hmmm," she said after a minute or so, "I'd probably bring Epic Strike and Cyanide Smash. Do you want me to go round them up?"

Shasta stood up again, and looked at the sun. "Yeah, go do that. I want you all together and ready by Desi's bike in fifteen, or less." She looked at Rasta and Desi. "You two taking that bike, or rolling with us?"

Rasta looked at Desi. "Well, with a bike, we could get away faster," he murmured, so only she could hear. "But if we go on our own vehicle, it looks like we're trying to be our own group."

Desi nodded. "Let's roll with them. I'm all for unity, and Shasta seems dependable, if a bit lacking in trust. But what Killjoy doesn't have a trust complex?"

"Okay." Rasta turned to look at Shasta again, and raised his voice. "We'll roll with you, if that's all right."

"Check your gear first." Shasta pulled out her own blaster, double-checking the power setting (extra high voltage for Dracs) and the safety switch. She flicked it off, as they were gearing up for a mission and every second counts when you're in a clap with some Dracs.

Desi pulled out her own blaster, realizing that the thunder bolt emblem on the muzzle was almost worn off. The laser voltage was on extra high (sometimes Killjoys left them that way so long they got stuck there), and the safety was off. Expected, since she'd been alone for nineteen days and her nerves had been hair-trigger. You don't relax; you don't turn off the safety.

When she straightened from placing her blaster back into its holster, Desi saw Rasta returning his own blaster to its usual place, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. "You know, Ros, one of these days, you are so gonna shoot yourself in the ass, and I'll have to nurse you back to health."

Rasta grinned at her, his infectious smile back in full force. "You know it, Dizzy, and I'd enjoy every second of your... attentions." He said, his eyes roaming all over her body. He stepped toward her, and pulled her into his arms for a long and heated kiss.

They pulled away a minute later, with both of them breathing a little bit harder. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." He said fiercely, his face buried in her hair.

Shasta coughed, and the two pulled apart. "You two gonna get a room, or get in the car and head out with me?"

"Sorry," Rasta mumbled, and they both climbed into the back seat. Shasta started the engine, and started the slow drive around the crowd of Killjoys. A few minutes later, they pulled up next to Rasta's bike, where Candy and two killjoy boys who looked about fourteen and sixteen stood.

The older killjoy boy had bright yellow (not blonde, _yellow_) hair that stood up in a shock from his skull. He was wearing a black leather jacket so faded you could call it grey, and yellow skinny jeans, with scuffed combat boots and a faded spider t-shirt. The younger killjoy had a head of black-blue hair and very blue eyes. His shirt was bright green, and he wore a blue motorcycle jacket that seemed about a size too big. His pants were baggy and had a bunch of pockets, and were so long on him you couldn't even see his shoes.

Both had holster belts with white blasters, which meant that they had either recently lost their painted ones, or had never been in a clap, and therefore hadn't earned their colors. The former was more likely, especially since so few Killjoys in the group were armed. Rasta and Desi scooted over in the backseat to share with Epic Strike (who turned out to be the boy with black-blue hair) and Cyanide Smash (the yellow-haired killjoy), while Candy took the shotgun seat.

Once everyone was settled in, Shasta revved the motor and they sped away toward the abandoned convenience store.

The ride was short, and even though it was a bit cramped, there was a stereo in the Mustang. They all sang along to the punk music most Killjoys favored, even though it turned out Cyanide Smash was so tone deaf, cats might have howled in his presence (if there were still cats somewhere in the Zones).

_Kiss and Tell_ by You Me At Six was rolling into the opening verse as the Mustang pulled up in the parking lot of the abandoned convenience store that Candy and Desi had left only a few hours earlier. "Epic, Cyanide. You two go scope out the place while we raid the distribution unit."

"Yes, sir!" The pair said, grinning, and climbed out of the car, drawing their blasters as they went.

Desi and Rasta climbed out of the back seat while Candy and Shasta got out of the car and shut their doors almost simultaneously. Rasta handed Desi one of the Drac cards. "It looks like we're lucky, girls. This unit was built to be able to serve two at a time. Odd, but why question BL/ind, if it serves us?"

"Precisely! So, let's team up: Candy and Rasta, while I'm with Desi. One person works the machine, while the other one loads all the guns into the trunk. Sound good?" Shasta asked.

They all agreed and paired up. "So, how many Killjoys do you have?" Desi asked, curious.

"Not entirely sure, since a lot of them come and go, but at least forty-five. So I say we clean out the machine, and if we got extras, I bet there will be Killjoys running around at the meet unarmed." Shasta said.

In the end, they ended up with about sixty-five blasters before the digital displays started scrolling 'Selection Slot Empty' over and over again. "Well, girls, I think it's time to meet up with the rest of the Killjoys back at the RV and head for the meeting place." Rasta announced after Shasta had nearly resorted to kicking the machine.

Candy whistled sharply, and the two Killjoy boys came clambering down from their posts on the roof. Everyone piled into the car again and they headed back to the Mustang. For most of the ride back, they all screamed along with 'Alligator Blood' from Bring Me the Horizon. It was quickly decided that Rasta Blasta had the best voice for the heavy metal music.

Killjoys, having heard of the mission earlier, ran up to the car as they pulled in. So it was fairly easy for Shasta and Candy to pass out blasters to the other Killjoys while Desi and Rasta got out of the car and headed for their bike. "Since they'll be a while heading out, Candy told me where the meet was likely to be." Desi told Rasta as she wriggled out of his hoodie and motorcycle jacket. "There's an old shack with a black widow graffiti sprayed on the side. Dr. Death Defying used to use it as one of his bases for his radio station before he set up shop in the diner." Desi said as she handed him the jacket. "So he left a flag flying as a sign. Kind of like Dr. D's own version of a welcome mat."

Rasta slipped into the dark red hoodie and scarred brown leather jacket. He mumbled something like 'damn, I missed my gear' and looked back up to face her. "So we're heading out first and scoping it out, so Candy and the other scouts don't have to?"

Desi nodded. "Pretty much, but since Dr. D ran the pirate radio station out of there and never had any troubles, we should be pretty safe on the Drac side." She looked Rasta up and down. "Have I ever told you how good you look in that jacket, Killoy boy?" Desi traced a finger down the red, yellow, and green stripes that adorned the sleeves of the leather coat.

Rasta stepped closer, smiling, and put his hands on her hips. "No, I don't think you have," he muttered, and started nuzzling her neck. Desi laughed, and gently pushed him away, smiling.

"Mmm, you know I missed you, Ros, but we've got a lot to do today. We can… get reacquainted this evening." Desi stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's go. We need to get down to mile marker 57, and the highway we were on today connects to Route Guano at about mile marker 15."

Rasta heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I guess you're right," he mocked, and broke out into his ever present grin. "I've been away from this baby way too long," he said, sliding a hand along the curve of the bike. He turned and looked at Desi. "I wanna drive."

Desi smiled again herself. "Go right ahead. You know I always thought that the bike handled a little heavy for me. I only drove it because you weren't here, and I had to keep an eye on it." Rasta was practically bouncing up and down. _Boys and cars…_

Rasta straddled the bike, and twisted the throttle. Desi climbed on behind him, and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his back. It was good to have Rasta with her again. She hadn't been separated from him at all since Lithium Razor, Silent Apocalypse, Nuclear Spider, and Rasta Blasta had saved her butt from the Dracs in her first clap. Being without him was like being fresh meat in the desert all over again, and it had royally sucked.

The engine roared under her body as the desert flew by, and she quickly fell asleep. For the first time since the morning attack by those Dracs, she slept without dreams. Or nightmares, even, for that matter.

She awoke to the bike coming to a stop, and the roar of the engine dying. She sat up, groggy, and slowly crawled off the bike. "Nice nap, Sleeping Beauty?" Desi muttered an obscene proposition, and flipped him the finger. "You're so sweet when you're sleepy, Dizzy. But you might wanna wake up fast, because we're here and the Fabulous Killjoys are likely to surprise us any moment.

_Oh, shit. _Desi practically slapped herself awake, which made Rasta nearly double over laughing. "Oh, shut up, Rasta. You'd be embarrassed to meet your heroes with sleep lines and bike hair."

Rasta kept snickering. "It doesn't make you any less funny." Desi lunged at Rasta, tackling him to ground.

"Help, help!" Rasta mock yelled as he let Desi overpower him. But, quickly, he grabbed her hips and rolled so he was on top. "I win."

"Ahem," a strange voice interrupted. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think you two were here for a different reason, right?"

If they hadn't recognized the voice as one that sang nearly every song on Dr. D's radio station, both Killjoys would have drawn their blasters and pointed them at the voice. Instead, they both turned to face Party Poison. _What an interesting story to pass on to younger Killjoys: "How did you meet Party Poison?" "Well, you see, he caught me and my boyfriend wrestling around in the dirt this one time."_

Four men stood in front of the shack, all trying very hard not to laugh. The leader, even though he didn't act like he was in control of anything, was Party Poison, with his telltale cherry red hair, blue leather jacket and dingy white skinny jeans. To his left, there was the Kobra Kid, his hair short and blond, wearing a red motorcycle jacket and yellow shirt. To his right was Fun Ghoul, in a dark green vest with a long sleeved yellow shirt, striped with black. A little apart from them (and obviously protecting whoever else was inside) was Jet Star, hiding behind his aviator shades, with wavy dark hair and a black leather jacket. His hand was resting on his blue blaster, but he was looking beyond Desi and Rasta, out into the distance.

"Oh, my… Fuck!" Desi scrambled to her feet, and started stammering uselessly.

Fun Ghoul stepped forward, grabbing her shoulders. A noise whined behind her, and Desi realized dimly that Rasta Blasta had pointed his blaster at Fun Ghoul, with the trigger even primed. _Who would point a blaster at a Fabulous Killjoy? They were heroes. _"I won't harm your girl," Ghoul said over Desi's shoulder at Rasta. "Promise."

Rasta snorted. "I know the stories. You flirt with every girl Killjoy. And, if you don't mind, I just got her back when I thought she was dead, so if you don't mind, I'd like to keep her." He said, with his voice icy.

Fun Ghoul smiled a bit. "The world is ending, thanks to BL/ind; and guys still worry about losing their girls to their heroes. Ain't it great?" He sighed. "I'm just trying to calm her down. From what we know, she seems like she's been a little high strung lately, and going into a big ball of shock at meeting us probably isn't helping. Even though we're all flattered, of course, because it's not every day a rising legend still freaks out over us." Fun Ghoul turned to look at Desi. "Desi, or, erm, Destroya, whatever you want us to call you," He started. "Please relax. We're just normal Killjoys like you. Only we're maybe a little crazier and stupid, and at least ten years older than most of you." Desi stopped yammering, but she wasn't really processing his words. "Please, please, I don't want to slap you. It would be completely 1950, and Kobra would get so mad at me." He looked over her shoulder at Rasta again. "And your guy over there would probably shoot me. That wouldn't feel too great." Fun Ghoul frowned, and focused on Desi's eyes again. "What's your guy's name?"

"Rasta Blasta." Desi spat it out automatically. "He's mine, and the Dracs knocked him out, and took him away, and I almost thought he was dead, and I was turning totally lame, and then I found him! Everything is fine, and now I'm never letting him leave again, and you can't touch him, I won't let you…" Desi continued on, but Fun Ghoul turned his attention to Rasta.

"Oh shit, man, I made it worse." He looked between the muzzle of Rasta's blaster and Desi's face several times. "Erm, Rasta, is it? I think right now, you'd be the best man to handle this." He immediately raised his hands, and backed up. "She needs you, man."

Somewhere in her mind, Desi heard Rasta's blaster powering back down, as well as the scuff of his boots in the dirt as he stood.

Suddenly his face was right in front of her. "Dizzy, it's all fine. I'm right here, okay?"

Apparently, Rasta decided the verbal approach wasn't working, so he kissed her. Shock wasn't much different from kissing Rasta, one just felt really great while the other mostly consisted of a buzzing around her head. Either way her thoughts were still very fuzzy. But somehow, Desi came back to Earth and started kissing Rasta back. When he was satisfied that she was going to be alright he pulled away.

He moved to face the Fabulous Killjoys with her, still leaving one arm around her shoulders. "Okay, now that Desi's not freaking out, I have a big question."

Party Poison, Desi suddenly noticed, seemed a little displeased. "What?" Party Poison asked.

"How the hell do you guys know who she is?" Rasta demanded.

"What do you mean?" Jet Star asked.

"When Fun Ghoul was trying to calm Desi down, I heard him say her name, and mention her rising fame. She's only popular mostly around Zone 7, where Lithium Razor's crew used to run. This is Zone 11, almost 12, actually." Rasta looked at all of the Fabulous Killjoys. "And while you may care about all the Killjoys and know most of them, you wouldn't recognize every local Killjoy hero on sight. Nobody gets recognized like that except you, because you've been around since the Fall, and everyone knows what you look like.

"So, again, how the _hell _do you know who she is?" Rasta said, raising his voice.

Kobra Kid sighed. "Well, I guess we should explain, Party-"

Kobra was interrupted by Party Poison raising his arm at the elbow, hand fisted. Kind of like old military code for 'I'm you superior so shut the fuck up.'

Party spoke. "We don't need to tell the mushy girl anything."

Rasta scoffed. "Seriously? Dozens of Killjoys have come straight from BL/ind life. I expected you to be more welcoming, being the epitome of Killjoy good spirit and all."

Party Poison narrowed his eyes. "Not from Battery City, they don't." Party waved a hand at Desi. "And that's irrelevant. We hold grudges for our own reasons."

"We?" Kobra Kid spoke up. "Excuse me, brother, but we decided a long time ago that you'd stop speaking for the two of us as a whole about this."

"It doesn't matter," Party Poison replied. "I still refuse to trust her."

"Why?" Rasta asked. "So, she ran around with Lithium Razor. So did I. He had a little more hate and bloodlust than the average Killjoy, but he saved her ass from a couple of Dracs in her first real clap. She felt she owed him something. And I grew up with the guy, so I put up with his psycho crap, tried to keep him in line."

"It has nothing to do with Lithium Razor." Party's voice was empty of emotion, which was pretty damn scary for one of the boldest, craziest, most badass Killjoys.

"What does it have to do with, then?" Rasta was getting impatient.

Desi finally spoke up. "I wanna know, too. Why do you hate me, Party Poison?"

Kobra Kid stepped toward her, but stopped, probably a little afraid of his older brother. "It's because you're our half-sister."

9


	3. Ch 3 The Kids From Yesterday

**Chapter Three:** The Kids From Yesterday

_WHAT?_ Desi resisted screaming. With all these bombshells dropping, she was amazed she didn't go back into hysterics. _I can't be related to the Fabulous Killjoys. They're like twelve years older than me, and I was born in Battery City. And, if I _did _happen to be related to them, why was Party Poison so pissed about it? _Rasta was obviously having his own mental dialogue, because he wasn't speaking, either.

Kobra Kid would have probably said more on the matter, but Party Poison had tackled him, and they were now scuffling together on the ground. Jet Star seemed intrigued by the display, but it was hard to tell behind those glasses. Fun Ghoul, though, winced as Party rolled up on top, and rose up to repeatedly punch Kobra in the face, and grimaced as Kobra officially gave up his defensive maneuvers, drawing his knee up into Party's balls.

As both rolled away, like boxers heading back to their corners, Fun Ghoul approached Desi and Rasta. "I know you guys are probably here to join the Danger Days Army, but right now, I think you'd rather go in and hear from Dr. D. He's the only one besides Party and Kobra who knows the whole story, and it looks like _they_," Fun Ghoul jerked his thumb behind him at the two groaning Killjoys, "Aren't going to be in the mood to talk anytime soon."

Desi was still staring at nothing, dumbfounded. But now she focused her gaze on Fun Ghoul. "They're fucking _serious_?" She exclaimed.

"Are they?" Rasta asked.

Fun Ghoul shrugged. "I guess so. They never explained why we kept such a close eye on some random mushy in Battery City, but we kept tabs. And when you became a Killjoy, Kobra and Party began to disagree so much, they agreed to drop it. Until Dr. D found out you were coming to find us today. The man can do a lot more than DJ a radio station."

Desi was speechless. She was the controversial red-headed stepchild. (Well, Desi had been blonde before she became a Killjoy, and Party was the red-head, but that was irrelevant). The old cliché still applied.

"Well," Desi started, "Let's go meet Dr. Death Defying."

Fun Ghoul led Rasta and Desi inside the shack. There were a few Killjoys she didn't know, but some were almost as legendary as the Fabulous Killjoys. Show Pony was there, his (her?) face covered by a black helmet, wearing a white tank top emblazoned with the word 'Noise', blue spotted tights with a black thong, and, to top off the crazy-even for a Killjoy- look, was a pair of roller skates.

Desi suddenly realized she had no idea who Dr. Death Defying was. No one ever spoke of him; all they knew was the sound of his voice. Maybe Show Pony was Dr. Death Defying. They all said Show Pony never talked, but maybe that was to protect his secret identity.

"Hey there, tumbleweed." The voice she had heard a thousand times, on clear nights when the broadcasts gave Killjoys more than a scratchy walkie-talkie sound. A few Killjoys moved around to reveal a Mexican looking man wearing aviator sunglasses and a folded bandanna to pull back his hair. Not a surprising look, but... He was sitting in a wheelchair, and easily the oldest person she'd met outside of Battery City. He wasn't gray or anything (even though one of the easiest things for Killjoys to find was hair dye), he just looked about forty.

"Dr. Death Defying." The older man let out a deep laugh that rumbled in his chest.

"That I am, and you can see, there's a reason I don't go running around with the boys, looking for claps to get into." He smiled. "I've been running this station since before the Fall, and I was in this silly contraption even before that."

"Sir," Oddly, even though Killjoys weren't much for manners or military honorifics, Desi felt that Dr. D deserved a 'sir'. "What can you tell me about my-" Desi found it hard to wrap her mouth around the word. "Brothers?" She finally managed.

Dr. Death Defying gestured toward a ratty-looking couch, which the Killjoys occupying it immediately evacuated. "It's probably gonna be a long story, so you should take a seat, tumbleweed." He looked at Rasta Blasta and raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want him in here? This won't be easy." Rasta tried not to look offended and failed. Desi thought it was cute.

"Yes, I do. He's been with me since he and his gang saved me from my first real clap with a couple of Dracs. Where I go, he goes." Desi and Rasta sat together on the couch, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You ready to listen, Desi?" Dr. D. asked.

"Yes." She was as ready as she could be, considering she'd only known she had a pair of big brothers for about five minutes.

"Well, where do I start?" Dr. Death Defying muttered to himself. "Party Poison and Kobra Kid were adults when BL/ind took everything over in 2012. BL had been around for a couple of years, gaining power. But they didn't go for global domination until the Fall. November 22, 2012, five years after the company went public; they had an international foothold in every major industry: television, pharmaceuticals, private security, and so much more.

Not long after that, they started buying out the remaining competition, and there wasn't much of that left, because almost everything had folded or been absorbed by BL/ind already. Soon the 'Medication' was prescribed to every U.S. citizen over the age of eighteen. Your brothers, as well as Jet Star and Fun Ghoul, had heard from underground sources what the Medication did to everyone. It lessened emotion and turned everyone using it into a mindless zombie. So they banded together and moved out to the desert, along with about fifty other people who believed in fighting BL/ind. These were the first Killjoys. In the beginning, they used crazy codenames because all cell phones were under surveillance, and so was nearly every other electronic device made after 2001. Soon, the codenames became identities.

"But you already know this," Dr. Death Defying continued. "Every Killjoy knows the beginning.

"Well, when BL/ind officially took control of the entire state of California as their base of operations and manufacture, everyone living in California was automatically employed into BL/ind service. That included Party Poison and Kobra Kid's parents. Their father had been successfully pretending to take his medicine until then, but BL tests all employees for presence of Medication in their bloodstream. So, he was discovered, and quickly exterminated. Their mother, who is also your mother, was still a viable female because she had Party and Kobra so young. She was reassigned to create a new family unit, this time with _your_ father. And so you came to be.

"Party doesn't recognize you as being related because to him, people die the instant they start taking Medication. So you are not the child of his mother. In his eyes, you're just the offspring of DLW-040901977." Dr. Death Defying paused, done for the moment.

"Every Killjoy I've ever met has felt more like family to me than my Parental Units." Desi said. "No one in Battery City has names, and the alphanumerics are way too long. So everyone refers to each other in context of relationship. I called her Mother, she called me Daughter. Father called her Wife, and Postman called her Resident 3 of Block A, Street M. Father's Boss referred to Father as Senior Mail Room Manager.

"Nothing was personal. I'm so lucky I managed to start puberty without getting highly emotional. They give children Medication as young as twelve, and they lowered the mandatory age to sixteen for females. I was two weeks and eight days away from getting my prescription the night someone left a radio in my room, set to your station. A week later, I ran like hell for the Zones."

Desi looked at Dr. D. "I don't suppose you have any idea which Killjoy risked their nuts, their life, and your radio station to sneak into the core of Battery City, do you? For the first three days after I heard your broadcast and the two Fabulous Killjoy songs of the night, I seriously considered reporting the radio, and the frequency."

Dr. D shrugged. "No one has ever claimed responsibility for creating Desi Destroya. No Killjoy but you has ever left BL/ind so old. No one else has come out of Battery City, either. Maybe Lil' Killjoy, but that was _years _ago." He explained.

"Who would think one little mushy was worth all that? No one but the Fabulous Killjoys and you knew about me. And Fun Ghoul and Jet Star didn't even know the whole story." Desi said.

"I have no idea, tumbleweed. The Fabulous Killjoys were surprised as I was when my contacts hacking the surveillance meters placed in the Zones told us they saw you running from Battery City."

Desi sat back, mulling over all the new information she had just heard. _I really am related to Party Poison and Kobra Kid. We have the same mother. _The thought was still completely crazy to her. Every Killjoy wished they had some connection to the Fabulous Killjoys; they were the only celebrities left, since it was practically the end of the world.

A thought struck Desi. "Wait," Desi said, sitting up. "They were adults before I was even born?"

Dr. D chuckled again, nodding. "Yes. Kobra Kid graduated in 2014, and Party Poison a few years before that. They were both away at colleges when San Diego transitioned into Battery City."

Desi resisted her jaw's urge to drop. "That makes them both nearly forty! They barely look older than twenty-five!"

Dr. D kept laughing as he spoke. "Yes, they are. Party Poison frowns at every newspaper he finds blowing around the desert."

"They really are fabulous, aren't they?" Rasta Blasta said, interjecting. "Not many Killjoys see thirty. And those four notoriously run around _looking _for Dracs to get into a clap with."

"You don't get to be a legend without doing some crazy shit, people." a new voice said. Desi and Rasta both turned to look at the Killjoy standing in the doorway to the back room of the shack. She was tall and thin with dark skin and a frizzy halo of dark brown hair. She wore faded black skinny jeans and a red and orange motorcycle jacket, layered over an unbuttoned thin plaid flannel, with a faded BL/ind logo t-shirt from before the Fall. She was also wearing stiletto boots. No one wore heels any more. On her hands was a pair of fingerless biker gloves, and a weathered gray handkerchief stuck out of her back pocket.

The surprising thing about her, other than the fact that no blaster was visible on her body, was that every piece of clothing fit her perfectly. Even Desi hadn't found a perfect fit in _all _of her gear. "Um, who the hell are you?" Desi asked, after she stopped staring at the newcomer.

"You don't recognize me? Shame." The Killjoy girl ran a hand over her afro, which was even bigger than Candy and Shasta's, although that wasn't saying a lot. "You been living under a rock, Killjoy?"

Rasta snapped his fingers and all but jumped out of his seat. "You're the Lil' Killjoy!" He pointed at her, full of nervous energy. "The one the Killjoys saved and nearly died for!"

Desi turned to look at Rasta. "Issues?" She asked.

Little Girl looked at them both as though she were crazy. "_You _are a little too excited," she said, looking at Rasta, "and _you _are clueless. How do you not know who I am?" She messed with the collar of her jacket, frowning. "Besides, I have a name, you know."

Desi narrowed her eyes. "I thought everyone here happened to know all about the _legendary _Desi Destroya. I grew up in Battery City, and became a Killjoy just before I just turned sixteen. So, I know all the legends, but I never heard much about you beyond what happened before the Fabulous Killjoys practically died."

"What _is _your name?" Rasta spoke up.

Lil' Killjoy, who wasn't actually so little anymore, heaved a big sigh. "Manic Phantom."

A light bulb went off in Desi's brain. "Manic Phantom! The fifth Fabulous Killjoy! All you ever were to me was rumors to the people I heard the stories from. Somebody once told me that Manic Phantom was the craziest, bravest, most Fabulous Killjoy. They even told me that maybe it was you that left the radio in my bedroom, because no other Killjoy would go that far into Battery City just for one random mushy."

Manic Phantom's eyebrow rose. "Desi Destroya? Growing up in Battery City?" She bit her lower lip, contemplating. "You're the girl that Party and Kobra insisted on keeping tabs on. They never told anyone but Dr. D who you were or why you mattered. I just knew that, any time the two of them argued, it was about you."

"So," Desi started. "Were you the one who put the radio in my bedroom? That Killjoy saved my life." Desi looked at the grimy floor of the shack, thinking about the way her life would have gone if she'd never heard Dr. Death Defying's broadcast: a numb, meaningless nonlife in a black and white, sterile world.

"I can't tell you who did that, Killjoy." Manic stared off into space. "That's not entirely my story to tell." With that, she started to walk across the small room to the front door.

"I have a completely unrelated question," Rasta said. "why don't you have a blaster?"

Manic coolly looked over her shoulder. Desi suddenly realized that her eyes were hazel, and kind of golden, actually. "I don't need one."

_What?_ Desi thought for the second time that day. Every Killjoy carried a blaster, even Kobra Kid, who was known for his karate skills.

Apparently, when Korse kidnapped me back in 2019, he put out an order to the S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. unit to not harm me. The Fabulous Killjoys killed him before he could retract the order. And Kobra Kid taught me karate, so I just break their necks. I feel bad when I have to shoot them, because they aren't trying to hurt me."

"Oh." Rasta said.

Dr, D, who had been silent, throughout the entire exchange with Manic Phantom, cleared his throat. "Well, tumbleweeds, I've got a broadcast to make. You mind going outside and seeing if Party and Kobra are all right from their tussle?"

Desi and Rasta rose from the beat-up couch. "No problem," they both agreed, and headed outside.

As they returned to the glaring full sun of the California desert, they saw Party Poison and Kobra Kid standing apart from Manic Phantom and the other Fabulous Killjoys, in the middle of a heated discussion. Jet Star and Fun Ghoul seemed to be staring down the highway with Manic Phantom, waiting for Killjoys to show up, since this was the meeting place for all Killjoys not teamed up with the Danger Days Army already. As soon as Fun Ghoul saw them, he came jogging over.

"So does everything make sense now?" he asked. "Are you gonna tell me all the things I don't know?" Desi laughed.

"I should have known you had an ulterior motive for being so nice to me," Desi joked. "I might tell you later tonight, after all the rest of the Killjoys get here."

Confusion spread across Fun Ghoul's face. "You mean you're going to tell all of them?" he asked.

"No, of course I'm not going to. It may be my story, but I'm not the only one who should get a say about the people who know." She glanced down the highway herself. If she squinted just right, she thought she could see Shasta's RV in the distance. "I just want to help out with all the Killjoys we think will be coming in. We know for a fact that you should be getting about fifty or so any minute now."

"I thought the two of you were running solo. If you were on that bike as a scout team, you sure wouldn't have been canoodling when you were supposed to be checking out the site." Fun Ghoul was resisting laughing his ass off. Desi didn't know if it was because he used the word 'canoodle' successfully in a sentence, or if he just thought that her first face-to-face meeting with her brothers was as funny as she did.

"It was just the two of us until we got separated in a clap with some Dracs." Rasta said. "I ended up with the group a few days later and a scout of theirs found Desi this morning, camping out over an abandoned convenience store. We helped them get some more guns for their crew."

Suddenly, a walkie-talkie crackled from inside Rasta's jacket. Shasta had given it to them when they left, since they had enough batteries to spare a few beyond Candy's scout crew. He pulled it out, and pressed the button to talk. "What was that?"

"We're almost to the location," Shasta's voice said, crackling through the walkie talkie. "Are the Killjoys actually there?"

"Yes they are." Rasta replied.

"Got that. See you soon, and could you tell Desi thanks?" The static crackled and died.

"Why thanks?" Desi asked.

"Well, they're running later than we expected. They probably got into a clap. You start moving fifty plus Killjoys around, S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. notices. And the RV is probably jacked. I'll have to get a message to Silicon Rocket and see if he can corrupt the signal." Rasta put his hands in his jacket pockets. "Shasta and Candy saved my life. It'd be nice if I could make sure they all can rest a little easier. I owe them that much."

"We've never had a problem with Dracs coming to retrieve the bike," Desi said.

"Yeah, but even S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. knows that you've got Fabulous Killjoy blood. I think they're willing to lose a single bike." Rasta retorted.

"Dracs still chase the Fabulous Killjoys."

"When was the last time they got hit by Dracs without looking for a fight first? It may not take long to find them, but that doesn't mean they were going to get attacked anyway. They've had the same HQ for what, almost twenty years? Almost every Killjoy knows it's in an old diner, even if they don't know which one. They are either in the middle of nowhere with a pretty heavy vow of secrecy, or they're really badass."

Desi sighed. "I still think Silicon Rocket did a great job with the bike. Jeez, now I'm getting special treatment from even Dracs for who my brothers are. And, one of them doesn't even acknowledge me." Desi paused when Rasta put a hand on her shoulder. "Do you know what? I don't really blame him, Rasta. Their father fought; he refused Medication. But their mother gave in. She ran away, she wasn't a Killjoy. Killjoys run towards chaos, away from authority."

Rasta looked Desi in the eye. "You don't know her story. She could have been on one of the first trials. They didn't advertise Medication with its real effects. Back then, there were addictive qualities, and maybe there still are."

Desi looked away. "I still don't blame him. Regardless of how, the mother of Party Poison and Kobra Kid died the day she started taking Medication. I am the by-product of two nonpersons. If that radio hadn't been left in my room…" she trailed off, and then looked at Rasta. "I would have been another nonperson. I would have had a nonlife at some useless BL/ind job for females. At nineteen, I would have been assigned to my own Family Unit, and I'd have created more nonpersons with a faceless man I knew only as Husband."

Rasta kissed Desi on the forehead. "But you aren't. Some Killjoy told Fate to suck lemons, and took a chance on you. And you ran away. Lithium and I saved your life. And, even though he wanted to kill you on sight just for being a mushy, I didn't let him. Even that psycho gang knew better than to harm mushies. It's not their fault that they're brain dead and soulless. It's BL/ind's fault. We only shoot when they're S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W., 'cause we have no choice. It's kill or be killed with BL/ind."

"Sometimes I worry that the past three years have been some fluke hallucination from a messed up batch of Medication, and that I'll wake up in Battery City one morning, confused. Then someone will give me a clean batch of pills, and I'll forget you, and the Killjoys, and everything I stand for right now."

Rasta started to chuckle at Desi's words, but stopped when he saw the genuine fear in her eyes. "You really think BL/ind would be able to create something this vivid and so very un-mushy? Even by a fluke?"

"When you put it that way…" Desi stopped talking, and just leaned against Rasta. He wrapped his arms around her, and Desi felt safe. Even when her universe was being turned upside down, especially then, there was always Rasta Blasta, sticking around to protect her, and watch her back. Even though she had her own blaster and was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

They were still standing together a minute later when Fun Ghoul whistled sharply. They looked up, and the outline of Shasta and Candy's RV was clearly visible down the highway. Somewhere from within his army green vest, Fun Ghoul withdrew a flare gun and fired it into the air. Luckily the sun had just started to set, so the neon green bulb of light was visible as it arced up into the sky. When he had replaced the gun within his vest, he turned to look at the two of them. "I've been looking for an excuse to use that thing for weeks," he said, grinning. Fun Ghoul had one of those smiles, like Rasta, that you just couldn't help suddenly feeling like you should be just as happy as he was.

Jet Star came out of the shack with Party Poison, both of them walking fast and a bit angrily. "What'd you do that for? Do we really need a neon sign saying, 'Hey Dracs, we're right here, come knock us all out and turn us into more of you'? We have fifty plus Killjoys two minutes out."

For a moment, Fun Ghoul looked like he was about to apologize for his mistake. Desi opened her mouth, planning to say something like 'You guys are Killjoys, would it kill you all to lighten up?' when Party and Jet both started grinning like madmen, which Desi supposed they probably were, anyways.

"We were just messing with you, man," Party said while he wrapped an arm around Fun Ghoul's neck and tried to keep him still while he could give him a noogie. "Dr. D has it covered. All his tech nerds haven't seen any Dracs within range for a few hours. And the last ones they did see are dead now, thanks to a couple of roller-skating Killjoys and a badass chick driving a Mustang. Nice car, but the Spider Trans Am it is not."

"Ha, I knew you'd say something like that the instant I saw Shasta's car." Party Poison glanced up at Desi as she spoke, his eyes hardening. Fun Ghoul was unceremoniously dropped to the ground as he stalked towards her.

Rasta shifted, so he stood behind her protectively. Even though he was a smart enough Killjoy to let his woman shoot in her own duels, Desi could feel by his posture that his hand was on his blaster. "Excuse me, but were you addressed?" Party Poison asked.

"No." Desi replied, unafraid. No matter how much of a jerk Party was going to be, she wouldn't back down to anyone. "But does it matter? We're all Killjoys here, and therefore friends through a common enemy."

"You may color your hair, carry a painted blaster, live in the desert, and shoot Dracs, but _you_ are _not _a Killjoy." Party Poison spat out the words like a bad taste as Kobra Kid came out of the hut.

"Party! Get off her fucking case. I don't care if you never accept her as our sister; she's proved herself as Killjoy more than a thousand times. Back the fuck off, man." He drew his blaster. "I've shot you before when you've acted like a dick," he said as he drew the voltage knob down from high. "I'll damn well do it again." The blaster made its high whine, and Kobra Kid placed his thumb on the blaster, looking like he wished it was a revolver with a hammer he could cock. "Don't fucking make me count."

Party Poison slowly raised his hands. "This isn't over, Destroya," he whispered violently as he stepped away. Desi was appalled. The Killjoys compared her to him? He was so known for being relaxed, laid back and funny. The Party Poison she saw with the Fabulous Killjoys was the Killjoy she'd been hearing about for three years. His voice singing over the radio was what haunted her for the two weeks it took her to decide to leave. But the Party Poison that talked to Desi? He was not the Fabulous Killjoy she wanted to be compared with and related to. He was vicious and close-minded and generally gave her the impression of someone who should run with Lithium Razor.

That Killjoy was one psycho guy, who killed Dracs more for the pleasure of death than anything. The night he had challenged Rasta Blasta to a shoot-out over her, Rasta and Desi had climbed on the bike and run like hell.

Kobra Kid lowered his gun. "Wise life choice, brother. If we had to wait for you to recover while we're taking care of about three hundred Killjoys, give or take several dozen, well, brother, _that_ little scenario would have been a pain in our asses. And, don't forget that we're also planning the biggest assault on BLI since 2019, even bigger than that." As Kobra Kid replaced the gun into his hip holster, he approached Desi. She reached her hand behind her, searching for Rasta's. She gave it a little squeeze, and looked over her shoulder.

"I think this is a conversation I need to have alone. Go check on Shasta's crew, okay?" The RV had unloaded right as the scene between Desi and Party Poison started. So, at least thirty people had witnessed the family dispute. Luckily enough, the stupider Killjoys had been too busy figuring out that Party and Kobra were brothers to realize she was their sister. And the smarter ones were too busy rolling their eyes at the less intelligent Killjoys and muttering things like 'Duh' and 'No, shit'.

"Whatever you want, Dizzy." Rasta pulled away and headed towards the Mustang, where Shasta was leaning against the driver side door talking shop with Candy.

"So, Desi, I guess I never really got to meet you, since Party was being an ass, and then we were kicking the crap out of each other." He looked at his hand, which was covered with a dusty biker glove like the hands of every other Fabulous Killjoy, and shrugged, extending it to her. "I'm Kobra Kid, your brother."

Desi smiled and took Kobra's hand. "It's nice to meet you, and sorry about the hysterics this afternoon. I've been having a rough few weeks. I'm Desi Destroya."

"I'm sorry about Party. He was close to Mom, and he took it hard when she started taking Medication. I was close to her, too, but I remember her the way she was before." Kobra looked down, contemplating, and suddenly snapped his head back up. "I'm sorry; you never got to know her like that. I forgot."

"It's okay," Desi replied. "I'm proud to be related to you guys, even though she wasn't much of a mother type to me. BL/ind life is like being a robot."

"I'm sorry." Kobra said, again.

"Don't apologize," she said. "Some Killjoy saved my life, and now I'm happy. I get to sleep under stars every night. And, even though Party Poison hasn't been great to me personally, I've heard enough about him as he is when he's not acting on the pain from his mother's 'death' that I can still be proud of him, somewhat."

"That's good, I guess." Kobra said, and then went silent.

After a few moments, he looked at Desi again, excited. "Can I see your blaster? I've heard about it, but…" he trailed off.

"It's just not the same, is it?" Desi asked, leaning down to flick the safety on before she pulled the gun from her holster. She handed it to him, and his eyes roved over it like he was looking at Excalibur.

"I never would have thought of this design," he said. "And, orange? Why orange? It's like a freakish color, but no one ever uses it." Kobra Kid traced his finger over the electric blue lightning bolt running down the barrel. His thumb rubbed over the circle emblem on the hilt, and he was immediately distracted. "A winking star-eyed skull? The symbolism on people's clothes and vehicles and blasters are crazy and meaningful and revealing, I know. But, I'm fascinated with yours. You grew up in Battery City. Your imagination was repressed." He looked her in the eye, a little mischievous. "It must be Helena."

Desi's eyebrows rose. "Pardon?"

"She was our grandmother on our mother's side. Taught Party and I everything we know about art and passion. Her blood runs strong in you, that has got to be it. I don't think any other mushy would have run. They would have reported the frequency and the radio and tried to convict the Killjoy responsible for 'civic disruption'."

"I did the skull because the day I painted that emblem, I killed my first Drac. I wasn't proud. But Rasta distracted me by telling me about all these old clichés and figures of speech his mother used to use. I loved 'stars in your eyes'. I think that's when I fell for him. Ironic, huh?"

"Not at all, actually. It's wonderful." Kobra's eyes suddenly clouded, as if with bad memories.

"You've lost someone, haven't you?" Desi asked. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me," she quickly added.

Kobra waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. You're my little sister: free pass for curiosity." He looked off into the sunset, partially somewhere else. "I lost two people, actually. I was engaged to this girl on campus right when BL/ind took over. She had a brain tumor, so they conned her into being on one of the first trials. And, I lost someone in 2019. She got exterminated in the First Assault, a little known attack that happened right after the guys and I 'came back from the dead', so to speak. She had just gotten pregnant, so you could say that makes three people. All four of us lost people in the next few months. If we had still believed in God, we would have said that happened because we went on a suicide mission for the love of Manic Phantom. God didn't let us die because apparently, we have to save the world. But, like all the great comics, the heroes always fight alone.

"I don't know if that explains it," Kobra said. "I don't believe it, because to me, God died the day BL/ind was born. But it helps Jet Star. Higher purpose is the best way for some people to explain why they have to lose a person."

Desi looked at Rasta, who happened to glance her way at the same time. He smiled, and her heart did a flip-flop inside her chest. "I couldn't lose Rasta Blasta. He's saved my life so many times… He's the only hope for me." _Killjoys don't cry until they've got something to cry for,_ Desi reminded herself, forcing back the start of a tear.

"I sure as hell hope you don't have to go through that pain, Desi. Party almost died when he lost his woman. He went off at a ludicrous pace for Battery City in the Trans Am. He was planning to crash in and take as many Dracs and armed BL/ind workers as possible down with him. It's an absolute fucking miracle that he ran out of gas five miles out, and we were able to catch him in the van."

"I'd tell him I've been in his shoes. But he hates me right now, and would just say I haven't, because I got him back alive." Desi said. "But, at least I can begin to understand how you feel. I almost killed a Killjoy this morning, my nerves were so raw. It's just too much to run solo when you're grieving. But the only choice I had was to find Lithium Razor. And he would have just jumped at the chance if he saw Rasta as out of the picture."

"Haven't heard about him much," Kobra said. "Tell me about him."

"He and Rasta saved me in my first clap with Dracs. Lithium actually wanted to shoot me himself when he noticed I was from Battery City. Rasta had two arguments. One, that BL/ind would probably create a better spy, and two, I was obviously a Killjoy. I was starving, and bedraggled. So Rasta saved my life twice in five minutes." Later, Desi had discovered that until Lithium had almost killed a Killjoy in cold blood, Rasta had been a lot like Lithium, full of rage, only without the mental imbalance.

"Why'd you split from his group?" Kobra asked.

"Rasta and I had just gotten together, and Lithium wanted me for himself, just because someone else had me. He challenged Rasta to a shootout. We left." Desi sighed. That night had been scary, because for about two minutes, she had thought Rasta would have done it. "Regardless of the fact that neither of them own me or have me, Lithium was out of place. That was the second time I'd seen him plan to murder a Killjoy for no good reason. I told Rasta that we had to go. Being the guy he is, he just stood up and walked away with me and never looked back. No matter how psycho Lithium was, Rasta grew up with him. So he stuck around. But he left for me."

"Sounds like a pretty great Killjoy, your man." Kobra smiled. "The kind of guy I'd want for my little sister." Desi loved that Kobra was being such a brother.

"You really wanted a little sister as a kid, didn't you?" she asked.

Kobra laughed. "Yeah. Party always had my back growing up, and I always wanted to be a superhero." He gave her a sheepish look. "I read too many comics."

Desi couldn't help but laugh at Kobra Kid. "You _are _a superhero."

"I don't feel like one." he replied.

"You, Fun Ghoul, Party Poison, and Jet Star kept me sane in the two weeks before I ran, and the week I spent alone and starving in the desert."

"Killjoys all have stories like that, Desi. But I don't feel like I live up to the image you all make of me."

"And Batman felt he was worthy of praise? He was the Dark Knight. He did the shady stuff so the cops didn't have to." Desi questioned.

"I guess you have a point," Kobra relented. "Wait, where did you learn about comics?" he asked.

"Nuclear Spider, another guy who ran around with Lithium Razor, was big on comics. He was one of the not-crazy people. Silent Apocalypse, he was ruthless, silent, and scary."

"That group had a lot of impact on you, didn't they?" Kobra asked.

"Look at it this way. I was practically a full-grown baby. Those guys raised me, psycho and all."

A high-pitched whistle interrupted the conversation. Desi turned to look for the sound and realized it was Fun Ghoul. "Killjoys, LISTEN UP!"

13


	4. Ch 4 Desolation Row

**Chapter Four:** Desolation Row

Every Killjoy in sight turned to look at Fun Ghoul, who was immediately pointing with both arms to his left, where Manic Phantom held a radio above her head with both hands.

"Hey there, tumbleweeds," Dr. D's voice came crackling out of the stereo, at full volume. Desi wondered why he hadn't just come on out, but she figured maybe he was paranoid, or maybe he just spoke to the masses better through his radio station. "Glad to see there was such a turnout. To think that Jet Star and Party Poison doubted me, too. Just 'cause I'm the old man sitting behind the mic doesn't mean I don't know what's what."

"You proved 'em wrong didn't you, Killjoys?" cheers rippled through the crowd. "Now, tumbleweeds, it's time for you all to head down to meet up with the rest of your friends. The boys will tell you all where you'll be going. No need for S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. to overhear. Now, keep your boots tied, your guns close, and die with your masks on if you have to!"

Manic Phantom lowered the radio and headed around behind the shack, presumably to stash the radio in the trunk of the Trans Am. Jet Star peeled away from the shack and walked over to where Fun Ghoul was standing. Desi realized she hadn't noticed him until he moved. _Very ninja of him, and here I thought Kobra was the karate guy._

"You all know how to get to L.A., right?" Jet Star asked; his voice was surprisingly deep, carrying easily in the attentive silence.

Shasta stepped forward. "I do. What am I looking for?"

"The Warehouse region, in the South end of the city. It's right on the coastal side, and easy to hide in." Jet Star informed everyone.

Desi raised a hand, drawing the attention to her. "How do you know it's not inhabited or under surveillance?" she asked.

Jet Star snapped his head to look at her. If he hadn't been wearing those dark sunglasses, she would have seen his eyes narrow. "We know it's not inhabited because we've been scouting it for over a year. And with the surveillance, even if S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. tapped into the city's system, we've sprayed every lens we could find."

"What if you missed something?" she retorted.

"We don't miss," Jet Star replied."Aren't you just a little paranoid?"

"One, I used to live in Battery City, I know what S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. can do. Two, I've had a long month. I got damn good at second-guessing every shadow."

"Point taken," he conceded. Jet Star looked at the crowd again. "Anything else you need to know?"

A random Killjoy shouted, "What's the deal between Desi Destroya and Party Poison?"

"That's not my story to tell. Ask Party yourself." With that Jet Star headed around behind the shack, and Fun Ghoul followed.

"Well, I guess that's my cue. We've got to head down to L.A., too." Kobra Kid said. "Take care of yourself, Desi. I'll see you soon."

As Kobra Kid walked away, Desi headed straight for Rasta, who was standing with Shasta near the bike. Shasta turned to look at her. "You wanna convoy with us? We'd all feel safer all around." she asked.

Rasta raised his eyebrow. Obviously, it was up to her. "Sure, strength in numbers, and all that." Desi turned to Rasta."Ready to go?"

"Whenever you are," he said, taking her hand. "It looked like your conversation with Kobra Kid went well." he whispered in her ear.

"He's a great guy to have as a brother," she whispered back. "I just hope that Party Poison comes around, too." Together, they walked back to the bike.

'You guys take the lead, all right?" Shasta called. "Just don't get too far in front, or I might have to shoot you when we get to L.A." Rasta laughed, and gave her a thumbs-up. With the bike engine roaring, and the RV backing up, Shasta wouldn't have been able to hear any other reply.

The ride to L.A. was supposed to take about three hours, give or take any interference with Dracs, or so Shasta had said. Even less, Desi had expected, since they were going to be in point position. But to Desi, it felt like it took twice that long before they even made it halfway. She tried to fall asleep, and it should have been easy with Rasta so close. But, there was so much new information cycling through her brain.

This morning, she'd woken up from a nightmare, which always set her day on edge. She'd almost shot a Killjoy, and after that, she had discovered Rasta alive and healthy. Then, there had been the Fabulous Killjoys. So much had happened in one day, and a lot of her expectations had been altered.

Dr. Death Defying was like the war-grizzled grandfather she'd sometimes imagined having, if she'd been born in a world without BL/ind. Party Poison was surprisingly confusing, being both the man she'd hoped he would be, and someone frighteningly different. Fun Ghoul was laid back and fun-loving, a perfect convivial Killjoy role model. Jet Star was quiet and definitely deadly, but without the ruthless psycho edge that Silent Apocalypse had possessed.

Kobra Kid was his own surprise altogether. Everyone talked about him like a playful Killjoy with a ninja hobby. But to Desi, he was protective, caring, and genuinely interested in becoming a real brother to her. While Party Poison was threatening and harsh, Kobra Kid accepted her as his own sister, even though they'd never met before today.

So many new and confusing events lay in front of her, the impending assault on BLI the least of her worries. _Hopefully, none of the Killjoys in L.A. decide to hate me. _Party Poison's misplaced rage and Jet Star's lack of belief in her abilities were bad enough at the moment.

Hours later, a headache was beginning to bloom in the back of Desi's skull. Dimly, she noticed the faded green sign proclaiming LA: 10 mi. _Good, _she thought, _maybe soon I can get some food and sleep._ The headache was something she would live with, because most Killjoys abhorred all kinds of pills, reminding them of the Medication that mushies were prescribed. Desi was even worse, having been within days of that life herself.

The miles flew by, and soon they entered the infamous City of Angels. Before BL/ind, this city had been full of sun, smog, and addled celebrities living outside of modern convention. In early 2015, there had been a streak of major riots, and many predicted the city would burn itself to the ground. The city had recovered slightly by the time BL/ind took over, but they weren't stable enough to take the end of the world. So, Los Angeles had become one of the biggest ghost towns in the country.

Just as Desi had started to wonder how they would find their way, she noticed the graffiti. Jet Star's emblem, a blue star with a mini lightning bolt, was sprayed near a vaguely inconspicuous arrow. She pointed it out to Rasta, and he followed the sign. Several blocks later, a red and white pill, centered above a sideways 'X', was sprayed on a building behind a 'One Way Street' sign. The sign was pointing to the left. Desi pointed it out, as well, and Rasta took the left. For the next twenty minutes or so, it was like that. Desi would spot the signs and show them to Rasta, and then they would follow the clues.

Eventually, the bike was headed down a street in the port section of the city. Directly in front of them, at the end of the street, was a large warehouse. Its condition was somewhere between well-kept and something that would have been condemned, if the city still had a society functioning within it. As they got closer, they noticed the graffiti sprayed over the top of the gigantic barn doors. All four of the Killjoy symbols were in a row, the clearest 'Welcome Home' sign any Killjoy could find.

Rasta pulled the bike over about a block away. Despite the signs, it was hard to stop being wary. When he turned off the bike, the headlight died, revealing that dim light came from within the building. Desi opened the stash box on the back of the motorcycle and withdrew her own jacket. Dark violet, with the winking star-eyed skull stitched onto the back, it fit her pretty good, and was warm enough for hot California nights. Still feeling a little paranoid, she bent over and pulled her thigh holster a notch higher on her leg.

Rasta grabbed her elbow, and gently made her stand. "Don't worry, Dizzy. Party Poison trusted this place to protect something like a couple thousand Killjoys." he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, kissing her on the side of her head.

Just then, Shasta, Candy, and several other slightly frightening looking Killjoys came over from the RV. She saw Epic Strike and Cyanide Smash standing near Candy. There were also other girls carrying their roller skates like they planned to use them as clubs, if necessary. "You guys ready to see what the Danger Days gang has to offer?"

Desi looked at Shasta. "I thought it was an army?"

Shasta shrugged. "Whatever. Killjoys thrive on chaos, but an army is based purely on rank and order. I think they used the term 'army' simply to imply the sheer size of the Killjoys we have in one place."

"Whatever we call it, it had better make S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. piss their pants when we all come rolling into Battery City in a couple of days." Rasta grinned as he talked. He had always been waiting for something like this to happen, the uprising. What use was a revolution if you never made a statement?

The group of Killjoys walked down the street with Desi and Rasta. Together, there were was about fifteen of them. The closer they got to the warehouse doors, Desi heard more and more blasters charge up. She looked around, and saw it wasn't any of them. Briefly, she wondered if the other Killjoys could hear, but she trusted Rasta's belief that this place would be safe.

Shasta was the one to knock on the large double doors. The metal clanged loudly throughout the warehouse on the other side. Desi's fingers strayed to her blaster in its holster as she felt the gazes of every Killjoy that pointed a blaster in her direction.

"Sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts, sing it out for the ones that all hate your guts," a voice called from within. Desi couldn't tell if they were singing.

"Sing it for the damned, sing it for the blood, sing it about everyone that you left behind," Shasta continued the lyrics in a clear voice that Desi was positive could project across an entire stadium.

"Sing it for the world," the voice came back.

"Sing it for the world." Shasta finished.

Instantly, Desi could hear the clanking and grinding of the doors on their hinges. Behind her, Candy tapped two scouts to retrieve the rest of the Killjoys from the RV.

The sight within the warehouse was a complete surprise to Desi. She had no idea what she had been expecting, but this blew all of that out of the water. Easily, there were over a thousand Killjoys mingling on the ground floor of the warehouse. They were dancing to music, having target practice (inside!), and generally hanging out.

When Desi walked inside with the rest of the group, she noticed several hundred more Killjoys on the upper level, a balcony running all four sides of the building, jutting out a good twenty feet, at least, from the walls. The Killjoys ranged vastly in age, from seven or so, to some that were easily twenty, although no one really counted birthdays any more. California barely had any seasons, and calendars were hard to come by and keep around.

"Pick up your jaws, Killjoys," a vaguely familiar voice called. "This is only the main warehouse. We have several others, filled to varying capacity." Manic Phantom emerged from the crowd, her boot steps still managing to echo in the vast space, despite the many bodies inside it. "Last _real _head count wasn't very clear. I think your group," she said, motioning at Shasta, "puts us over five-thousand."

Manic looked around, and pointed at two Killjoys conversing several feet away. "You and you," she said, snapping her fingers. "Yes, you," she said, rolling her eyes when the Killjoys looked up, confused. "Show these new kids around, tell them how things work. I need to check in with the boys. Sounds like the Trans Am pulled in about ten minutes ago."

Desi noticed that the two Killjoys were vastly different from each other. One appeared in her early twenties, tall and slender (not to the extremes of Manic Phantom), with sleek black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had a blonde highlight along the left side of her hair, and several inky strands escaped her ponytail to curl around her face. She wore black skinny jeans, and tall combat boots that she kept polished and properly laced. She had a dark red blaster on her hip, with a matching biker jacket, over a dark gray tank top proclaiming 'Bite Me' in faded letters.

The other Killjoy would have been lucky if she was fifteen. She was a fairly short girl, barely clearing five feet, not counting the hair, which was a tightly curled mass of grape purple. Her jacket was also the same insanely violet color, over a bright yellow tank top and gray jeans. Her feet were covered in fairly well abused black Chuck Taylors.

The shorter one spoke first. "Well, as Manic Twit said, this is only the main warehouse. There are five others, which we'll show you in a minute. Here is mainly where the higher-ups crash, but until late night, pretty much anyone hangs out in here."

Desi raised a hand, feeling like she was back in a strange twist of her Orientation for School. "Higher-ups?" she asked.

This time, the other Killjoy spoke. "The good shots, experienced ones, and of course, the Fabulous Favorites, as Fanta loves to call them. She's a great fan of nasty pet names for authority figures." Surprisingly, the girl had a British accent. That was odd, because there was no international travel anymore. Not even from Canada or Mexico. BL/ind was super uptight about security.

"That's me," the purple-haired one spoke up. "I'm Fanta, Fanta Explosion." She waved her hand. Ask about the name later, it's kind of a long story."

"Before you all ask, I might as well tell you," the one with the dark red blaster said. "I'm Black Rain. Not the craziest name, but the Canadian has an excuse to be a little different."

"Canadian? You sound British." Shasta said.

"My parents were from England, originally. They lived in Vancouver for about a decade, before they escaped down here in 2012, when BL/ind took over up there. It was a little more subtle and passive up there, since they hadn't come up with Medication yet.

"My parents still thought they deserved to keep their rights. I grew up in Washington with not many people but them, and my aunt. I moved down here in 2019. My parents had just died, and I'd heard about the Fabulous Killjoys through a chain of pirate radio stations."

"Well, let's get going. It's almost completely dark out, people." Fanta interjected.

With that, Fanta Explosion and Black Rain showed the group, as well as the other Killjoys from Shasta's gang, around the main warehouse, and the five others (all marked with different Killjoy symbols, the fifth unmarked and full of non-perishable foods and stolen BLI goods). They were told that the higher-ups would be sorted out in the morning, and to crash anywhere there wasn't another Killjoy laying claim.

Desi and Rasta headed towards the warehouse with Fun Ghoul's symbol, just because it was the most empty. They weren't used to large groups after spending so long with only each other. And the day had been full of so many people; they were tired of the social scene.

"Isn't it odd that you two aren't that social for the average Killjoy?" A familiar voice called out to them from the dark alley between the warehouses. "You'd think, after being alone for so long, you'd crave company, right?" Rasta's hand instinctively went to his blaster, and Desi resisted doing the same.

"Lithium Razor, in the flesh," Desi laughed, but it was forced. She continued talking. "I'd have thought Apocalypse would have shot you for all that talking ages ago. God knows _I_ wanted to about a thousand times." Her fingers twitched at her side.

This Killjoy scared her. Other than S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W.'s minions, and the idea of going back to Battery City, he and Silent Apocalypse were the only things that scared her. Oddly enough, though, Apocalypse had never seemed inclined to harm her, or any other girl. Maybe that man's ruthlessness had a weak spot.

Even in the dark, she could picture his thin, angular face with the two piercings in his left eyebrow, and the one in his lip. His greasy, spiky dirty-blonde hair, streaked with highlights from time spent in the sun; an ink-black jacket, emblazoned with a yellow spider on the back, over a deep red T-shirt with a laughing decapitated head; his worn black jeans, and steel-toed boots.

But the thing that haunted her the most? His blaster: black as night with yellow grips and a bright blue line along the barrel. The voltage wasn't just stuck on high, the knob was broken off. And Desi had woken up screaming for two months straight, unable to get the sight of that blaster pointed at Rasta's head, only inches from his skull.

"Nah. You know me, Des. I owned that punk, and Spider, too." Suddenly, he peeled away from the shadows. Lithium traced a cold finger along her cheekbone. She knew without seeing that his nails were ink-black, just like his heart. "And even if Apocalypse had tried to ghost me, I still would have come for you." Desi reached behind her, groping in the darkness for Rasta's hand. She desperately wanted to not be afraid of Razor, but she couldn't control it.

Rasta wrapped his fingers around hers. Without speaking, she knew that he was planning to shoot Lithium the instant he could see him. For once, Desi cursed the smogged-out sky that she'd dismissed as a simple fact of L.A.

"I made my choice almost a year ago, Razor, and I haven't looked back. I never looked twice at you as anything other than the Killjoy that saved my life one minute, and tried to shoot me down the next." Desi hoped he didn't notice the slight quake in her voice.

"Ah, babe, don't be so harsh. First impressions aren't everything."

"What about second impressions, and thirds? Rasta was always holding you back from overkill. I saw him talk you down multiple times from ghosting Killjoys just for looking at you cross-eyed. He grew up with you, and spent years kicking around the Zones with the crew. But the instant he seemed like he had something you didn't, you were planning to kill him in cold blood." Desi paused. "I lived in Battery City. I've seen worse monsters than you outsiders can imagine. But, Lithium, you make Dracs look like toys. They can't help it, they're just brainwashed. But, you, you're heartless."

"Don't be like that," Lithium's voice slowly gained an ice-hard edge. "I wouldn't have killed him."

"You would have, if he had let you. But, that isn't the point, Razor. You never looked at me like anything but a mushy turned damn-good Killjoy. You hardly realized I was even a girl until I was with Rasta. It was never about me. It was always about other people having things that you didn't. You always have to be better, Razor. You never let anyone have the best parts; you saved it all for yourself."

"I was the leader, it was my right," he protested.

"We were a team. The only reason you were a leader was because you insisted on being one. Everyone had to be second-best to you."

"Everyone _is _second-best to me!" Lithium's voice had a crazed energy to it, and if it had been any other lunatic, Desi would have expected him to start giggling like he had lost his mind completely.

In the darkness, bodies shuffled, and Desi knew Lithium was launching himself at her. She reached down her leg and pulled her blaster, flicking the voltage down from fatal as she moved. A white beam of light shot from her blaster, illuminating the alley for a moment, and Desi saw that she had shot Lithium right between the eyes. She kneeled down beside his body while he twitched from the electricity, not quite unconscious. "You're going to have an awful head when you get up, man. Maybe that will teach you to stay away." With that, she stood and holstered her blaster, continuing down the alley to the warehouse she and Rasta had been heading toward before Lithium's ambush.

"Nice shot," Rasta remarked as he wrapped an arm around her.

"It was dark, and I acted on instinct. It was pure instinct." Desi leaned into Rasta's body as they walked.

"Then you've got good instincts. You should totally tell the other Killjoys tomorrow." he said as they turned the corner.

"I already get too much attention as it is!" Desi protested.

"Attention is fabulous. Killjoys thrive on it." Rasta pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, so you might be right."

"Admit it. You're secretly happy that people know your name."

"It is kind of cool that my blaster has a reputation."

"Stop being modest, Dizzy. Sometimes, you are _so_ socially impaired." Rasta laughed as Desi elbowed him in the side.

"Hey, that hurts."

"Oh, waah. Suck it up, Killjoy."

They reached the doors of the Green warehouse, as Desi thought of it. She color-coded them all related to their Killjoy signs: yellow for Party Poison, red for Kobra Kid, blue for Jet Star, and green for Fun Ghoul, obviously. It matched their guns, and the colors of their symbols.

Rasta helped her slide open the doors, and to close them after they were inside. Desi sighed. _Now, can I go to sleep? Or do I have another surprise/shock/assault to deal with?_ Rasta took her hand and headed towards the stairs that led upstairs. "I know you'd rather sleep under the sky, but the warehouse feels safe enough, right?" he asked over his shoulder. _Dang, he is so nice to me, and thoughtful._

"It's fine. The stars are smogged out here, anyway. And there are so many Killjoys. I'm not afraid of waking up to Dracs hovering over us." She turned Rasta around by her grip on his hand, and kissed him. "Fuck, you have no idea how much I missed you."

"I think I have a great idea. I thought you were dead, too, Dizzy. Remember?" Desi kissed Rasta again, and sighed.

"It has been a long damn day." she said.

"No kidding." Rasta put his arms around her and rested his head on hers. "Let's go find a spot to crash."

"Sounds good to me," Desi said. They wandered around until they found a stack of mattresses and another stack blankets set up for newcomers. After they had grabbed several, they found an empty spot near a large and broken window. Luckily, the glass had been swept away long before, and between the two of them, they pulled over a mattress in no time.

Desi and Rasta curled up together, and she fell asleep almost instantly. _So much for getting reacquainted, _she thought distantly as her mind began to shut down. They'd just have to catch up and hang out tomorrow.

"OH, MY GOD!" A male voice yelled. Desi jerked sharply, coming out of the first deep sleep she'd had under a roof since she left Battery City. "Desi, wake up. Please, please, please wake up."

"Shut up!" a voice yelled sleepily from somewhere in the warehouse. Rasta pulled Desi closer to her as she tried to sit up.

"Ignore him," he muttered, kissing the back of her neck sleepily.

"He'll just keep bugging me," Desi stated. "I might as well get rid of him sooner than later."

Desi blinked her eyes groggily as she looked around for the noisy Killjoy. Suddenly, a face was looming in her vision. Shock struck her as her eyes cleared. "Spider!" she shouted.

"I said, shut UP!" the faraway voice yelled again.

"Oh gosh, Desi, you have no idea how long it's been," Nuclear Spider whispered, hugging her fiercely. "When you and Rasta left, I was the last sane Killjoy running around in that group. I left the next day, before Lithium or Apocalypse murdered me in my sleep." He hugged her again. "It's so good to see you!"

Desi hugged Spider back. "It's great to see you, too. I met a girl yesterday who would make a great friend for you. If I promise to introduce you, will you let me sleep?" she bribed. "I had a terribly long day yesterday, and I'll fill you in on all of it later, I promise."

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, you go get some sleep." Spider pulled back and smiled at her, beaming brightly enough to be measured in kilowatts.

"Later, Spider," Desi mumbled as she lay down next to Rasta again.

"I take it that that was Nuclear Spider, as in the short, excited comic-obsessed Nuclear Spider?" Rasta mumbled. Spider had always made Rasta look kind of tired.

"The one and only," Desi murmured, before returning to unconsciousness.

When Rasta nudged Desi awake a few hours later, she realized that they were the last ones still upstairs.

"Hey there, sleepyhead." Rasta said. "Didn't Black Rain say something about competition or ranking today?"

Desi nodded sleepily. Rasta nudged her again. "What did she say?"

"Funta shed muffin flout antsy dance."

"What?" Rasta decided to move up from nudging her shoulder to poking her in the side.

Desi let out a gigantic yawn, and tried again. "Fanta said something about fancy pants. You know all those good shots and bossy people sleeping over in the main warehouse?"

"Ohhh. Well, get up. We might miss it." Ignoring him, Desi snuggled closer to his body, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It's not worth standing around shooting at things. You know they're all better than me."

Rasta yanked the blanket off of her, and she curled up into a ball. "Bull, shit. I watched you shoot Lithium Razor between the eyes, in the dark. And I know for a fact your blaster was on high while it was in your holster. Even with switching down the voltage, you were still faster than him."

"Lucky shot." Desi grumbled.

"You lie, Dizzy. Now get your ass out of bed, girl."

"Don't wanna."

Rasta decided that her answer wasn't good enough and quickly stood up. He grabbed her by the ankles and started to drag her toward the stairs. Desi immediately began squealing like a little girl.

"No, stop, no! I'll get up, I promise!"

Rasta continued pulling her along the floor of the warehouse balcony. "I don't believe you."

"I promised, didn't I?" Rasta mocked sighed, and dropped her feet.

"I guess you did. Come on, let's go." he said, and headed toward the stairs. Desi scrambled to her feet and ran to catch up with Rasta.

"Again with the modesty, Dizzy. Why do you always do that?"

Desi shrugged. "I don't know, Rasta, I just don't like attention as much as the average Killjoy."

"I think you actually love it, but you don't know how to take it. People grow up seeking praise; it's human nature. You grew up without that. So you don't know to handle it."

Desi elbowed Rasta. "Since when does the Killjoy boy know all about psychology?"

"I'm smarter than I look."

"I'm sure you are, Ross." Desi said, and kissed him on the cheek. 'Thanks for telling me I'm better than I think I am."

"Someone's got to do it." Rasta replied, wrapping his arm around her.

As they came close to the main warehouse, they could easily hear the distinct sound of laser blasts.

"Told you we'd be late." Rasta said.

"Shut up."

Suddenly, Fanta came running out of the warehouse, screaming at the top of her lungs. "She's gonna kill me! Help!"

11


	5. Ch 5 Destroya

**Chapter Five: **Destroya

Shasta dashed out of the warehouse, running after Fanta. "Damn it, stay still, you obnoxious, infernal twit!" she yelled at the Killjoy who was now running zigzags down the street.

It was a strange sight to see. Shasta had stopped a few blocks away to take aim at the squiggling Fanta. The small girl with the massive cloud of purple hair was practically screaming her head off. She wasn't getting that far very quickly, considering her tiny frame. Desi wondered for a moment why she didn't duck into an alley. _It's not like they dead end._ Desi figured that Fanta must enjoy making trouble, and that she obviously denied Shasta would shoot her. Meanwhile, Desi had no such doubt. Shasta ran a tight ship, so to speak, and probably had the infamous Killjoy leader temper. It takes a special person to command a crew of Killjoys.

_Maybe that's why Party Poison is such a prick to me. I get his guard up, for some reason. _Shasta fired a shot, exercising top marksman patience. It narrowly missed Fanta's skull, and the white beam caused a lock of vivid purple hair to fall into the street. _I just wonder why me being his sister irks him so much._ Shasta fired another shot. This one grazed the elbow of Fanta's jacket, and the girl dropped to the ground, rolling with the motion.

"Bloody hell!" Black Rain exclaimed as she and a dozen other Killjoys leaned out of the windows of the second story. "I always wondered if she had a screw loose. Maybe it's just a death wish."

"No kidding," Rasta Blasta muttered. Fanta had recovered from her trick drop, and now sat in the street, legs splayed, hands in the air, surrendering.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay?" She exclaimed.

"Hate to tell ya, but sorry just isn't good enough, little girl." Shasta's voice was cold. _What had Fanta done that had made Shasta so angry?_

"Oh, you're all bloody, buggering, idiots!" Black Rain yelled from her spot in the window. "Let her go, De/Tox. She's just a kid, psychotic anathema to authority or not."

Shasta threw up her arms, and made that strangled noise girls tend to make when they feel like screaming. "The voltage was hardly even _on!" _

"That doesn't mean you have to chase her down the street and shoot her." Manic Phantom had appeared out of nowhere, and Desi jumped to see that she had been standing just to the left of her. _Everyone is really good at sneaking up on me lately, and I say, it's getting old._

"She shorted out one of Candy's blasters. The misfire could have fried the nerves in her hand, stopped her heart, or even caused the blaster to explode and harm several Killjoys." Shasta shot the offending Killjoy a glare. "She's damn lucky nothing happened to my sister."

"It was just a prank," Fanta grumbled from her place on the ground. "How was I supposed to know that shorted blasters could be more dangerous than working ones?"

"Maybe if you listened to the people that are more experienced than you, instead of _trying to kill them_, you'd learn something." Shasta had holstered her blaster, and now stood with her hands on her hips.

Fanta grumbled something unintelligible, and stood up from the street, dusting off her jeans. "I won't do it again." she said, sounding more like a bummed kid than an apologetic Killjoy.

"Damn well better not." Shasta retorted.

"Okay, now that the crisis is over, can we all go back into the warehouse and finish evaluating the newcomers?" Manic Phantom asked, already heading back inside. Obviously, her question was rhetorical.

Rasta and Desi made their way inside, along with the small crowd of Killjoys that had come outside to watch.

"Now we know that you _really _don't mess with Shasta's sister or piss either of them off, huh?" Rasta said lightly, grabbing Desi's hand and threading his fingers through hers.

"I sure as hell don't want to find out how good her aim is on me. I don't have a protective curly purple 'do, and I never did run as fast as anybody else."

"You sure dance just fine," Rasta muttered, and slid his hand down Desi's back. She reached behind her, arresting his playful appendage.

"Behave, won't you?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"What if I don't want to?" Rasta questioned, being recalcitrant as he resumed his attempts to feel her up.

"You watched Lithium last night. I'll shoot you."

"Oh, Dizzy, you wouldn't." his green eyes twinkled a bit as he pretended to pout.

"You know I would." Desi stepped out of his reach as he moved in to kiss her. "You are so lucky that you're cute, 'cause I wonder why I put up with you." she smiled, happy that Rasta was around to flirt with and tease.

Rasta scoffed. "I thought I was the one putting up with you. Trigger finger, you're on Party Poison's hit list, Razor can't stay away. You're just a hot mess of trouble, Dizzy."

If anyone else had said that sentence to her, she'd have been offended. But when Rasta looked at her with his easy smile, she knew he'd never say anything with the intention to hurt her.

"Watch it, buddy," she joked as they melded into the crowd of Killjoys that surrounded Manic Phantom. "Party may have it out for me, but Kobra's got my back."

Manic stood in front of a waist-high stack of wooden pallets in the center of the warehouse. The twenty yards behind the makeshift ammunitions and weapons table were clear, and a large, laser scarred target stood against the wall. The target itself was shaped to vaguely resemble a person, and a Drac mask had been tossed over the 'head'.

"Listen up!" she shouted, and Desi noticed Manic's foot tapping. She seemed to do that when she was tired of Killjoy ADD. All heads swiveled to focus on Manic Phantom. "Jet Star and the other Fabulous Killjoys are out on a run right now, so he can't be here to show off and give advice." Sighs and complaints murmured through the crowd, but Manic interrupted them all again.

"You will just have to put up with the next best thing we've got, and it's not me. Kobra was almost glad to teach me karate, 'cause I couldn't hit the broadside of BLI HQ."

A Killjoy near the front raised his hand. "I give up; who's gonna be setting the bar?"

Manic snickered, and replied, "Well, none other than Desi Destroya, of course. Most of you guys all think she's so great, anyways." She looked over to Desi's spot near the edge of the crowd and narrowed her eyes. It was almost like she was daring her to be embarrassed enough to mess up. _Maybe Jet Star isn't the only one waiting for me to prove myself. _"Step right up, Desi, and give us some destruction."

As Desi walked up to the table, she pulled her blaster out of its holster. _Well, Rasta keeps telling me I'm such a great shot. Let's see who wins that argument. _"You looking for speed or accuracy, Manic?" she asked.

"Best you can do under surprise assault. And, it's Phantom to you." Manic Phantom replied with ice in her voice.

"Whatever, not like it matters." Desi grumbled as she put her back to the target, and tried to forget where it was. _They want surprise assault? I'll give them some._ Desi silently counted to three, and spun around, finding the target and sighting down her gun arm. She didn't even take time to breathe as she fired twice, straight into the center of the target's chest with the first, and shooting the ear of the Drac mask off with the second.

As she holstered her gun, a round of applause slowly started up. And, it didn't even sound sarcastic. _I knew where the target was already. It's not like I would have been that good in a real attack._

"Well, well, well." Manic stepped forward to extend a hand to Desi. "Damn good, Killjoy." Desi eyeballed the hand in front of her. Despite her wariness of Manic's karate skills, she put her own hand out and shook.

"Had to intimidate the newbies, right?" Desi smiled, and turned up the Killjoy swagger Rasta always said she didn't have. "Besides, I could take out a gang of Dracs in my sleep."

The Killjoys who were close enough to hear laughed, and a voice called out. "I should know. She almost shot _me _in her sleep." Candy strutted to the front of the crowd, and Desi noticed a slight shake in her right hand. _It must be the voltage from the misfire messing with her nerves. Is she downplaying the effects so Shasta doesn't _really _murder Fanta? "_Now, since my attempt was, er, fouled up, could I have a go? Bet I could top Desi."

Manic looked at Candy. "Still trying with your blaster, or do you want to use the one we've got for those who are not so handily equipped?"

"I don't trust any blaster but my own. These two gremlins," Candy said, spinning her twin blasters around her fingers, "have saved my ass more times than I can count."

"Okay then. Step right up, cowgirl." Candy shot a look over her shoulder at Manic, and put her back to the target. Desi watched her contemplate; her fingers twitching near the holstered laser guns at her belt. Suddenly, Candy spun around, drawing as she moved. Her eyes snapped open, and she fired both blasters. Twin white beams flew straight into the dummy's chest, and she raised her arms, firing into the head. She left no doubt that the enemy was eliminated.

Candy holstered her blasters with some flashy twirling, and leaned against the stack of pallets. "So, guess I win, Desi. Gonna let me ride that hot bike with Rasta on our next run?"

Desi felt her face flush, and her trigger finger tensed. _The bike is one thing, but my man is something entirely different._ "No. He's mine, and the bike is off-limits, too." She narrowed her eyes at the girl.

"Whoa, feisty, eh?" Candy was laughing a little as she talked.

"Candy, _you_ try being scared mindless that your man is dead or Dracked for almost a month, to then have a bubblegum cowgirl practically ask you for him as a prize the day after you get him back." She spun on her heel and headed for the door. "Of course I'm a little 'feisty'." It was a long walk, since the target range was in the back of the warehouse, but Rasta caught up to her before she was even halfway.

"She probably didn't mean it that way, Dizzy." he said. Trying to soothe a pissed-off Desi was like putting your head in a python's mouth. But, Rasta was practically a snake-charmer.

"That doesn't matter. She knew my story, bitched at me for being a wreck, saw how I felt about you. Then she went and said _that._ Not cool, no way." The heavy clomp of her boots echoed off the walls of the warehouse as she stalked across the concrete floor. "You haven't shot yet. You should probably head back, Ros."

Desi broke out into the sunlight. Even though it had been nearly twenty years since L.A. had almost burned to the ground, smog and smoke still hazed the sky. She only made it a few strides beyond the door before Rasta Blasta grabbed her arm. "I'm not going anywhere, not 'til I know you won't run off too far. Or worse, kill someone. There's dozens of Killjoys in there, and rank doesn't matter to me, anyway. I'm only gonna show off so we get grouped together during the raid." He turned Desi around to meet his eyes, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I almost lost you once. I'm not letting you out of my sight again, not even for a minute." he smiled a little, and spoke again. "And, just in case you even wondered for a _second_, I'm not going anywhere for anyone else.

"The minute that I saw Razor pointing his blaster at you, scared, starving, and full of crazy new emotions that you never really felt in Battery City, I was more scared than I'd ever been. I knew right then, when I was more afraid for your life than mine, that you were the only hope for me, Dizzy."

Desi had never doubted Rasta, and now was no different. He was the most genuine, carefree, and protective person she'd ever known. Honestly, that wasn't many, since she'd only been in Razor's crew and roaming alone with Rasta. But, it was still true.

"When Razor wanted to kill you, and I asked you to leave, just get up and walk away with me, I was so scared you'd choose him over me. You've known him forever, and he was practically your brother. I was just a Killjoy girl who ran away from Battery City. I'd only been in your world for a little more than two years." Desi's body relaxed, her angry stiffness melting away. "When you chose me over Razor, Rasta, I knew there would never be anyone else."

"Hey there, Dez!" a voice yelled from a couple blocks away. Desi's head snapped up to search out the sound. Nuclear Spider was striding towards her and Rasta in his usual manner. Which, to say the least, was more like a squirrel dashing for cover than anything resembling a human walk.

Rasta sighed, and looked around for hiding places. "You feeling okay now, Dizzy?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Ros. But, before you attempt to jump into that dumpster, you do know that Spider already saw you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, but that doesn't help with the reflex to run. That guy acts like a six year old amped up on sugar and caffeine. Twenty, four, seven." he spoke with a tone of exasperation. "It's frigging exhausting, that's what it is." Rasta kissed her on the forehead, and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm going to go run away on the pretense of joining the pissing contest inside."

"Any excuse for a Killjoy to have bragging rights, and everyone jumps." Desi said, and repressed a giggle. She turned to face Spider as he came closer.

Once you got past the 'sugar high squared by a caffeine rush' vibe the Killjoy boy projected, he was pretty adorable. Compared to Rasta, who was a few short inches from six feet tall, Nuclear Spider was in fact, kind of short. He was only a bit shorter than Desi, but that was counting the rioting shock of dark blond hair that insisted on standing up as though he'd stuck his finger in a light socket. A green skunk stripe was constantly flopping into his eyes, which were always wide open and vibrant blue.

He wore faded blue skinny jeans, and a yellow shirt with the batman symbol splayed across the chest. Over the shirt was a dark blue denim jacket, emblazoned across the back with Superman's symbol. 'The only two superheroes worth counting,' he'd once joked, 'besides the Fabulous Killjoys, that is.' He wore black and green high top shoes, a style most Killjoys passed over for boots or Chuck Taylors.

"How are you, Dez?" he asked. "I heard about your brothers this morning. Freaking crazy, huh?" The Killjoy talked at ninety miles an hour. When she'd first ended up in Razor's gang, it had been like he was from outer space. No one in Battery City spoke in any way other than a flat monotone, never even raising their voice.

"Yeah, Spider, it is freaking crazy. I had one heck of day." Desi quickly relayed the events of the past day or so, while simultaneously parrying several dozen questions from Spider.

"You think the Phantom was the one who left you the radio?"

"So far, that's my best guess. At least now I have a guess."

"Party Poison hates you because your mom was on the first Medicine trials? Not cool!"

"Tell him that."

"Rasta Blasta almost shot Fun Ghoul?"

"Yes. Fun Ghoul even looked a little scared."

Desi voluntarily left out the part about Lithium Razor paying her a visit. She didn't want to scare him or make him worry about her.

After Spider finished his interrogation, Desi learned that after Spider had left the gang, he had started rolling around with a couple of sisters from the Eastern Zones, not far from where Reno used to be. They had settled down in an old nuclear bunker for a couple of weeks, reading comics and shooting down the few rare Drac squads that found them. They'd had a nice thing set up, until the Fabulous Killjoys had found them when they were out on a food run.

"Are either of the girls particularly special to you, Spyde?" Desi asked.

"Nah, not really," Spider shrugged. "They're like sisters to me."

"Oh, cool. Well, you know that friend I was telling you about?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Her name's Candy. I think you two would get along great." _And maybe then, she won't be looking at my man,_ Desi silently added, refusing to get mad all over again.

"Cool! Maybe I can meet her later?"

Desi smiled. Spider did everything 150% with tons of exuberance. "Definitely." He broke out into another of his huge smiles.

"Well, I'm gonna go watch everybody inside." Spider started to walk towards the warehouse, and suddenly turned around. "You wanna come with?" he asked, gesturing with both hands, over his shoulder.

Desi shook her head, and waved him on. "No, I'm good. I think I need some time to myself for a bit, okay?"

"Okay, catch you later, Dez." As Spider walked away, Desi headed down the street. She had no destination in mind, started to randomly take corners and explore alleys. Never before had she felt so safe in an area, to take the time to explore, instead of scout.

Rays of sunlight glinted off broken bottles and abandoned cell phones. Since Desi had overslept so much that morning, it was already past noon. It seemed like the smog and smoke might clear out for a few hours.

It wasn't very long before she had gone beyond the circle of warehouses that the Army occupied. As the surroundings became new and completely unfamiliar, she noticed evidence of a long-ago paintball fight.

Desi noticed paint everywhere. Yellow paint had splattered against the brick walls and aluminum facing of several buildings. _Apparently, someone likes to climb a fire escape and get the high ground. _She kept walking for several blocks, and started to get a feel for the different shooters.

The blue shooter didn't leave much behind, even when it was the spray-off of a successful hit. He didn't seem to be the shoot-until-you-hit-them type.

Red seemed easily distracted, with a lot of marks up high or in strategic spots on the billboards posted along the warehouse wall. Even though paint was everywhere, she didn't see much green, mostly just spray-off. _Someone was kicking ass and taking names. _

The colors of the paint were still fairly bright, not smoked over by the old fires at all. Obviously, the fight had happened recently, _after_ the Army had moved in. _I wonder who these Killjoys were. _

She followed the paint marks around a few blocks and down several streets. _It must be great to be secure enough to have a mock fight instead of a real clap._

Eventually, Desi saw paint splatter outlining the head and shoulders of their target. The splatter was made up of several shots from multiple shooters: yellow, blue, and red. They'd grouped up to take down Green. _I'd gang up on someone if they were winning that bad, too._

The fight continued on, but the green paint seemed to stop all together. _Must be a sore loser, then. _With Green out of the running, Yellow seemed to take the lead, and dominated the other two shooters.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Desi started looking around. She was hoping, even though it was futile, for some sign of Green again. _What happened to this Killjoy?_

Right as she was considering the uselessness of her search, Desi noticed a green mark on a Dumpster several yards away. _Success!_ She walked closer, to examine it, and noticed another mark, almost half a block from where she stood. Desi continued to find more paint splats, almost a dozen. She followed the trail, like an obsessed bloodhound, until she eventually broke out of the network of warehouses.

Before her was a huge pier, that had probably been a docking station for a cargo ship years ago.

The sunlight, weak as it was, still managed to glint attractively off the water and far away from her, Desi could see a pair of seagulls flying around an abandoned ship. _I wouldn't mind a swim, but it's probably worse than jumping naked into raw sewage._

Desi walked to the end of the pier, and sat. As she stared out at the water, she let her mind wander, away from all the new information and stress of the past few weeks. _Sometimes, being a Killjoy is so nerve-frying._

Desi looked around, wondered what she would have seen fifty years ago. Before the Riots, before BL/ind, before the Fall, L.A. may have been crazy, but it was beautiful.

Setting up the DDA here was rather poetic. Before the end of the world, all the crazy, wild, artistic and famous people lived in L.A. And, the only city that could be more of a home to the Killjoys was Seattle, but it was really far from BLI HQ, and not the best location to plan an assault when you're 1,200 plus miles away.

_It's good to have a home. _Even the most wanderlustful of Killjoysneeds somewhere to come back to when they get worn down.

"Dang, I thought no one could find this place but me." Fun Ghoul's voice suddenly came from behind her, and Desi nearly jumped six feet in the air.

Her head whipped around, and she narrowed her eyes at the offending intruder to her thoughts. "These boards haven't been taken care of for, like, twenty years, and they creak like hell! How come I didn't hear you?"

"Don'tcha know?" Fun Ghoul said, smirking. "I'm a ninja."

"Ha ha, that's likely. Hey, why are you down here, anyways?"

"Well, that's an easy one. It's my spot. I found it a few months ago, and I come here when five thousand Killjoys becomes too much family for me."

Desi frowned. "You're the life of the party, though. I don't think you'd ever get tired of your audience."

Fun Ghoul chuckled. "You'd be surprised, Destroya. Being this awesome takes a lot out of you." He sighed, and looked down at his feet. "Especially when every time you turn around, something reminds you of the one person you can't wait to see again. Except…" he trailed off. "You won't ever see them again."

"Kobra told me that all of you lost people in the First Assault. Important people…"

Fun Ghoul met her eyes. "You're a lucky girl. You got that Killjoy boy of yours back, alive and well. I think that's one of the reasons that Party Poison resents you. Well, I have another theory for one of his other reasons."

"Tell me you theory." If Desi couldn't get Party to accept her, maybe she could at least understand _why._

"When Korse kidnapped Manic Phantom, it was like losing a comrade, a sister, and a daughter all at once. Party was furious at himself for letting S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. win, furious at Korse for using people he cared about to get to him. He was just furious. Anger is how Party gets through it. If he can't sing it out, he'll shoot it out.

"He doesn't want to get attached to you, because he believes he'll lose you like he nearly lost Manic, like he lost Kaleidoscopic Cherry. If he refused to acknowledge you because he didn't see your mother as the same person his mother was, he wouldn't have kept tabs on you the way he did. Before you were a Killjoy, he and Kobra rarely argued about you. Their common goal was to make sure you were safe, even if it meant letting you stay a mushy."

"Wow…." Desi was speechless.

"I want to tell you something. We all had different theories of how to wrap our heads around the shit that went down in the First Assault. When I woke and started being a real Killjoy again, I thought about what makes us Killjoys, the things that divide us from the resistance that went down in a cheap defeat, defines us as more than mushies.

"We have a cause, obviously. We fight BL/ind. But how do we keep going? The world has practically ended, and if you think about it, we're outnumbered and overpowered beyond every chance. But we still feel. We hope, we dream, we love, and we create. Art is the weapon. Dreams are our anchor. Love is what keeps us fighting. Hope is our fuel.

"Don't lose your fight, Desi. I know you've got fire and spunk in spades. But, if you stop believing we can win this fight, you're going to go down in a clap you ran for, knowing you won't make it out. You may be Kobra's little sister, too, but we saw you several times while your boy was gone. I know the look that lived on your face. Party Poison had that look when he saw Cherry dead. It was the look on his face when he headed out for Battery City. And it was the look on his face when we drug him out of the Trans Am three hours later. It was months before he even so much as spoke.

"The Killjoys need as many things to believe in as they can get. They believe in you. No matter what hits you, don't lose hope."

Fun Ghoul came to sit on the pier next to Desi, and they sat there staring at the sun on the water for a long time. Neither of them spoke.

When Desi came back to the camp with Fun Ghoul around sunset, Kobra Kid and Rasta Blasta found them almost instantly. They both looked worried to hell.

"What happened?" Fun Ghoul asked.

"Well, jeez, besides Desi disappearing for more than six hours and then coming back with _you_?" Rasta Blasta glared at Fun Ghoul. _I know he's worried about Fun Ghoul's reputation, but, that can't be all._

"Oh, come off it. I dig the protective boyfriend shit, Blasta." Kobra looked about to slap Rasta upside the head as he scolded him. "But, seriously, he's twice her age and you already warned him off. He's not the bad guy, here. We have bigger shit to deal with." Kobra looked at Desi, and his eyes were full of concern. "Several of the younger Killjoys are missing. Epic Strike and Fanta Explosion among them."

11


	6. Ch 6 House of Wolves

Chapter 6 – House of Wolves

"Wait a second. This isn't Battery City. Kids don't operate like zombies. They run around and play. How do you know they're not off exploring somewhere?" Desi asked.

"It's also the end of the world. Every kid here not attached to someone bigger than them _knows_ to let people know what's up. There is no such thing as a carefree kid running around willy-nilly like there used to be." Kobra replied.

"Besides, I was going to find Fanta and talk to her about Candy and everything. I had an authority problem like her when I was younger. I get it. That's why Lithium and I ran off at twelve and started our own gang." Rasta shook his head. He hated getting off-track. Rambling off was something he must have picked up from me. "Anyways, when I went to go see Black Rain, she was freaking out. She couldn't find her anywhere. And, since Fanta's always running off and everything, anyways, she's got a walkie so someone can always reach her. Black Rain had been trying her for a half-hour with no reply. She told me that never happens." Rasta said.

"What about Epic Strike? I know he's only about fourteen, but he went on the supply trip with us. You have to have your shit together to be a scout, and he's got a walkie, too."

"It's the same point. Cyanide Smash came to me, and told me what happened."

Kobra started to explain. "One minute they were having a conversation, keeping their separate watch points, and suddenly, there was no reply. He went to go see what was going on, and found a blaster scorch on the alley wall, and the walkie smashed, like someone had thrown it."

"Okay, so something serious is happening. But what about the other kids?" Fun Ghoul finally spoke. _So, that's how he is in a crisis. He doesn't say much until he has an important question or figures something out before everyone else._

Kobra sighed. "We're not sure. But, they seem to have practically walked off. But one Killjoy said his little sister ran back to get her bandanna from the warehouse they were crashing at, and never came back. He went to go get her, thinking she might have gotten distracted by a friend or something. He found her bandanna crumpled on the ground, covered in street grime. Apparently, that was her favorite possession, and cherished. She didn't do that to the bandanna."

"Does Dr. D have his guys watching the BL/ind security cameras? In case whoever did this leaves the city?" Desi asked.

"Oh, he's got better than that. Whatever's left of L.A.'s city cameras were patched into his system hack. This new guy, Silicon Rocket, fixed it all up for us faster than D himself could get down here and do it. And, to answer your question, he'll be all over it as soon as Jet Star gets to him."

"We know Silicon. He used to run with our gang, 'til something didn't go right for Lithium. Then he ran like hell from that kind of crazy. We still keep in touch, sometimes." Rasta said.

"Okay, so what are we doing about the kids?" Desi asked.

"As soon as we knew what happened to you, we were going to join up with a search-slash-assault party. Candy Bang-Bang and Black Rain have already volunteered, since they feel responsible for some of them. As well as that little girl's older brother, Crash Rebel. Manic and the others must have rounded up a gang by now. We should head towards the main warehouse, if you don't have any more questions."

"Let's go. I want to find these guys as soon as possible. Especially if it's not BL/ind behind this." Desi said. "It's bad enough that eighty percent of the world lives a non-life. Having other kinds of evil to worry about just plain sucks."

As they started to walk, Rasta drew close to Desi, and whispered in her ear. "Okay, so I'm trying not to worry about Fun Ghoul, but why did you come back with him?"

"I was walking around the city, and ended up finding an abandoned and undestroyed pier where it was quiet and nice to sit. It just happened to be that that spot was where Fun Ghoul came when he wanted to get away from the huge group, or to just think. We had a talk, and then we just sat and watched the water for a long time." Desi sighed. "I mean, he's like my brothers' brother, and twice my age. He's like another Kobra. Don't worry, Ros. There will never be anyone else. Now, let's focus on these missing kids."

When Kobra, Fun Ghoul, Rasta, and Desi arrived at the warehouse, there were about a dozen Killjoys standing in a cluster near the door. Manic Phantom, Candy, Shasta, Cyanide Smash, and about four more Killjoys Desi recognized from Shasta's group were there, with a few people she didn't think she'd ever seen before. Manic looked anxious, like she'd also come to the idea that they might not be dealing with BL/ind. _She can't shoot for crap and goes unarmed, so fighting normal people leaves her vulnerable._ When she noticed that Kobra and Fun Ghoul were there, her face went straight to stoic and badass.

"Besides the people connected to those that are missing, we have a couple new recruits." Manic gestured to the strangers. One of them was extremely tall, with a spiky mess of green hair, rivaling even Manic in all her stiletto-booted glory. He also happened to be the stretchy kind of tall. He wore tall black motocross boots and a pair of bright red skinny jeans. A blaster was in a thigh holster on his right leg. It was yellow and green, painted like stripes of facial camouflage from some old war movie. His shirt was a faded gray, and had the BL/ind face logo on it. Only this one had red x's over its eyes. He also wore a denim jacket that had studs all along the tops of his shoulders. "This _wonderful_ and ever so _helpful_ Killjoy," Manic gestured to the boy, making 'wonderful' sound like 'disaster magnet' and 'helpful' sound a lot more like 'obnoxious', "is Uranium Suicide."

"I'm Bubblegum Rocket,' announced the Killjoy standing next to Uranium Suicide, before Manic could open her mouth. This Killjoy was barely five feet tall and full of attitude. She had bright pink hair that fell straight down past her shoulders, with wide, peroxide blonde highlights and roots. She had fire engine red shutter shades that looked like they'd been attacked by a paint-baller with purple ammunition. She wore a black crop top that had the words 'Dance Like You Mean It' emblazoned across the front. Her bright bubble-gum pink skinny jeans were stuffed into combat boots. She had a faded black bandanna wrapped around her right wrist, and her left arm was covered in a rainbow of jelly bracelets to her elbow. The handle of a red blaster spattered with purple paint stuck out of her right boot. And she looked fast enough to grab from that low and shoot you before you even knew she saw you.

Before the next Killjoy could undermine Manic, too, she tapped her on the shoulder, and announced, "This is Gunmetal Diva." This girl looked nothing like a diva, unless you considered the pink handle and trigger on her pump-action scatter-shot laser shotgun that she had painted entirely in camouflage. She was tall, with aqua blue and blonde hair wrestled into a bun on top of her head, and a small patch of blue was falling out of the bun and into her eyes. Her black shirt read "Anything you can do, I can do better. Promise" She wore bright orange cargo pants over an old beat up pair of work boots.

The third Killjoy was the last one that she didn't recognize from Shasta's group. He had curly black hair, and piercing blue eyes that Desi had the strangest urge to not look away from. He was several inches taller than Desi wearing blue-buckled black motocross boots and faded black cargo pants. He wore a dark grey shirt with 'AKA James Dean' hand stamped onto it. He wore a red bandanna around his neck and a thin grey hoodie inside his black leather motorcycle jacket. She couldn't see a blaster or anything, but Rasta was definitely not the only boy to keep it in the back of his waistband. For a Killjoy, he didn't wear much color, but it wasn't an official standard.

Manic noticed Desi watching him, and smirked. _I have a man, you vicious twit. It's not like I'm chasing this guy. I just have eyes. _She stalked over to the Killjoy and trailed a finger down his arm. "Desi, this is Crash Rebel, the one who lost his little sister."

Crash Rebel's eyes hardened and he looked down at Manic's hand. "She has a name. Use it."

Manic coughed, and straightened her spine. "His little sister, Trouble Smash, is one of the ones missing."

Manic ran down how many people were missing, and then Fun Ghoul spoke up with the plan of attack. 'Party Poison and Jet Star are heading toward Dr. D to see if he can do anything to help. Kobra Kid and I will each head up a group, and Desi and Rasta will have the third group, while Shasta and Candy have the fourth. Desi, Rasta, why don't you guys take off first and check all of the abandoned warehouses, in case they're still nearby."

Kobra Kid looked around the group of Killjoys. "Who's heading out with Desi's crew?" Cyanide Smash and Crash Rebel immediately stepped forward, along with Bubblegum Rocket and a few other Killjoys. "No one else? Okay then, get going."

As they approached the first warehouse, Desi mentally scrambled for a plan. She'd never been a leader, and definitely not in any situation like this. _How do I not screw this up? Little kids are in danger. These people think I'm strong enough to be a leader, a legend. A hero…_

Desi straightened her spine, and whistled. "Okay, here's the plan. We surround the warehouse; leave a Killjoy at every exit we find. I give the signal, and we go through, on guard, ready to shoot. Clear it out, step by step."

"Doesn't that sound a little hot-headed and brash?" Gunmetal Diva piped up. Admittedly, it might not have been the smartest, most defensive, text book plan. But, they were Killjoys, not one of the old-school tactical police teams from before the Fall.

"We're Killjoys, not the S.W.A.T. team. We are a little hot-headed and brash."

"She has a point," Crash Rebel said. "Besides, we all know this isn't a BL/ind type of move, especially with this many Killjoys around. Unless it's one of the random rare survivalists and paranoids who are neither BL/ind minion nor Killjoy, it's some rogue dark-hearted psycho ass bastard that calls themselves a Killjoy! Whether it's my little sister or not, we all deserve to run in guns blazing, and shoot him until he can't see straight. Killjoys don't _do that!"_ he exclaimed.

"Well said, but shouldn't we still exercise a tad bit of caution?" one of Shasta's killjoys spoke up.

Rasta slowly broke out into a smile, Desi's favorite. It was the one that always preceded a kick-your-ass-in-gear pep talk. He looked up to meet Crash Rebel's eyes, and spoke. "Like Rebel said, we're Killjoys, and quiet and sensible are never words that apply to us. Screw caution, let's kick some ass!"

Several other Killjoys, including Bubblegum Rocket, cried out, "Hell yeah!" and "Right on!" among other cheers.

Desi quickly shushed them. "I hope the bad guy isn't in there, because if he is, we just gave him a head start."

Quickly, the Killjoys dashed around, finding doors. Even if it was locked, the Killjoy still stood guard, in case they escaped from the inside.

When Desi reached the front of the warehouse, she banged on the big sliding doors twice, signaling the others. Rasta quickly helped her shove them open, and together they ran in, quickly scouting through the ware house for any sign of the Killjoys.

Four other Killjoys met her in the center of the warehouse as the two who had dashed up to the second floor came down after shouting the 'all clear'. Luckily, this warehouse had been empty. Manic and the Fabulous Killjoys had warned them that some of these warehouses were still full, with varying contents, ranging from palettes of back stocked retail from before the Fall, to airplane parts.

They ran through four more warehouses, finding nothing of any importance.

As they approached the sixth warehouse, and radioed in to Manic back at the central warehouse what their status was, Rasta started looking like he was stuck under his own personal rain cloud. Whenever he looked like that, he was getting one of his gut instincts. Every time he had gotten this type of feeling before, Rasta called off whatever run or raid they were planning, whether it was when they were in Razor's crew, or when it had just been the two of them.

"Are you okay, Ros?" Desi asked.

"I'm fine, just don't like the way this feels." he replied.

"Do we back off?"

"No, we can't. The kids might be in there. Besides, since I've always taken the safe route, I have no idea if these feelings have any weight or not. It might just be nothing." Rasta didn't look like he believed what he was telling her. "Don't worry about me, Dizzy, let's find these kids."

"I will worry about you. You are my man, and it's really dumb to stick your blaster in your pants."' Desi joked, trying to not think about the situation.

"Everything will be fine," Rasta said, tugging on the point of the bandanna tied around her neck. "Come on, let's get this done and over with."

Desi took a deep breath, and banged twice on the front wall of the warehouse. This one had a gigantic roll-up door like Desi had had on the garage door of her Living Unit in Battery City. Beside it, there was a tall metal door. Desi slowly turned the handle, holding her breath, and stepped inside.

The windows circling the upper floor of the warehouse had all been blacked out, so Desi was a little surprised when the front half of the warehouse was dimly lit by the bank of lights placed on the ceiling, as well as one smashed out ceiling panel, which left a strange halo floating in from the smoggy sun above.

Standing directly in the glow from the poor excuse for a skylight, like a sick and twisted version of an angel bathing in the glow of heaven, was a Killjoy. A killjoy Desi knew.

"Si-" Desi's surprised exclamation was cut off as the Killjoy raised his gun, pointing it off to his right, where a group of about fifteen small Killjoys sat, each in their own aluminum folding chair.

"Guess what, you mushy bitch?" _Rhetorical question._ The Killjoy slowly started to walk towards her, striding out of the light. The shadows seemed to swallow him, even under the incandescent glow of the lights overhead. The gun, flat black, covered in glossy black tribal designs, the only spot resembling color being the silver trigger that glinted in the glow from the electric light, stayed pointed at the Killjoy children. Who, by the way, were doing a damn good job of being Killjoys.

A little girl, who looked like she couldn't even have been seven, with strawberry blond flyaway hair, and unsettling bright blue eyes glared and fidgeted with the ropes binding her. Her face was splotchy and red, the way an unbelievably angry child tends to look.

"This is my territory, these are my hostages, and _now_ I will be the one to talk. Listen up, and listen fucking well." The Killjoy chuckled to himself quietly, the sound reminding Desi of the way oil slid over rain puddles and wet asphalt on the rare occasion it rained. "There will be a test later," he mocked.

Desi, who had been scanning the crowd of children to get her mind off of the ice water currently rushing through her veins, spotted Fanta. Her purple hair showed no mark of the piece she'd lost this morning. A blooming black eye, though, showed that she made a terrible hostage. She looked to be unconscious.

"You got it right, you pitiful excuse of a human." The Killjoy interrupted Desi's worrying. "Silent Fucking Apocalypse, as I live and die."

"Gee, I never knew you had a middle name!" Desi never was the type to butt out of a conversation, and the words jumped out of her mouth.

"Shut the fuck up when I'm talking!" Almost faster than she could see, his gun swerved from the children, and a beam of light shot towards Desi.

Bright lights flashed in Desi's vision, and an electric pain raced through her nervous system, followed by a wave of painful numbness. Desi dropped to one knee, never looking away from Silent Apocalypse, even as the short blackout that came from a ray gun shot came and went.

Desi's right shin throbbed as she rested her weight entirely on her left leg. _Fuck you; I can't wait to watch you die._ Normally Desi had a major thing against shooting Killjoys, and especially killing them. Silent Apocalypse was a sick and demented bastard. The instant he began to speak, Desi realized he was not a real Killjoy. His eyes seemed wrong in his face, oddly normal. They didn't gleam with the odd light that advertised 'psycho and dangerous' the way Razor's did. But the voice, his voice. Every word from Silent's mouth gave Desi a disturbing urge to escape her skin and crawl the walls.

"Silence. I like that." Silent Apocalypse picked an imaginary piece of lint from his spotless, scuff-less, pristine black leather jacket, and continued. "Now, I know you have all of these, questions, rolling around in your mind. Don't ask, I'll just answer."

He placed the muzzle of his blaster against Desi's forehead. The plastic felt clammy, the ring of metal surrounding the opening of the barrel chilled. "Why would a sick fuck like me, smart as I am, let you all notice my presence? Why draw attention to myself, stealing seventeen young Killjoys in less than three hours."

"Well, it's like this. I got tired of being so very good at what I do. So I left my quiet little shack, let the 'Fabulous' Killjoys find me. I figured out where their base was, set up camp, and generally got to know the area. By the time there more than two thousand Killjoys, I left. You know how Killjoys come and go, in any gang. No one questioned the disappearance of a single silent, withdrawn man.

"I picked this warehouse. It's defensible, close the water, and look," Apocalypse jerked her chin up with the muzzle of his laser gun and nudged her to look at the children. On the far side, there was a large, clear tank. It could have been an aquarium. Silent had filled it with water, and Desi could see scuff marks from grubby Killjoy shoes trying to find purchase, and bloody marks where fingers had been worn raw trying to climb out and escape. "It's a wonderful way to rescue them. Drowning is such a peaceful death, I've heard. When I was done with the ones I took, after I saved them, I left their bodies tangled in the pier nearby, for their families to find, or not. Who would question a little Killjoy kid exploring and running wild, and having an accident on the old, decrepit dock?

"See, but that explains why I'm here, but it doesn't explain today, it doesn't explain why you're here, or why I have a particular urge to fry your brains 'til they melt out of your pathetic little skull."

The oil slick chuckle was back. It sounded like any other Killjoy laugh, but it made Desi's skin crawl and all she could think of was gritty oil on water.

"You see, you stupid mushy bitch," Silent Apocalypse started, shoving the muzzle of the blaster back into her forehead, painfully, but not yet hard enough to bruise. "My issue with you, is that you're such a privileged airhead. Everyone loves you. When you're nothing but a robot who thinks they found emotion and a cause.

"Mushies don't _leave_, they stay in their pristine, monochromatic little houses on their ordered, neat little streets in their pristine, monochromatic little suburbs, in their ordered, neat little streets. They live their perfect, plastic, _fake_ little lives like good little BL/ind minions. And then they fucking die! End of story.

"Oh, and I heard about your little family bond. How fucking adorable. All the better to worm your way into the Zones, and destroy the Killjoys from the inside, that's what I think." Silent Apocalypse pushed his blaster into her forehead, shoving her neck back painfully. He bent over, his cold, empty gray eyes boring into hers. "Korse, are you in there? Is this your wonderful idea? You're one of the only people still left in this godforsaken fucking country with a brain on that side of the fence.

"Even if you're human, you'd expect them to hardwire BL/ind into your system, so all your sensory input goes straight back to HQ. I bet, right now, Korse is standing in a room full of machines and TVs and all those lovely surveillance gadgets they have, just for you, glaring at the screen, pissed as hell that all this work, to make a legendary Killjoy worthy of taking down the Fabulous Killjoys, something no Drac could do, could be over at any moment.

"I could kill you right now, you pathetic mushy. I have the power! I, alone, could deal a major blow to BL/ind. I'm the only one who can see it, see through all the programmed bullshit, and know why you're really here!" Silent Apocalypse's voice kept raising, and he was almost screaming now. "I'm the real fucking predator here, not S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W.! I got you to walk straight into my trap!"

Suddenly the gun was gone from Desi's forehead, and she tried very hard to not slump forward after being bent backward at such a painful angle. "Now, you stupid pathetic S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. tool, prepare to fucking die."

A laser weapon whined to life in the distance, something bigger than a blaster, something that definitely didn't belong to Silent Apocalypse. "Oh, no you don't. She might be a pretentious little snot, for all I know. But she's still a fucking Killjoy." A flash of pink entered Desi's peripheral vision. "And, you, you sick demented fuck, are not. So guess what? _You _can prepare to die."

As she had talked, Gunmetal Diva had slowly crept closer to Silent Apocalypse, moving from the shadows at Desi's right to stand behind Silent Apocalypse. Now, the end of her scatter-shot laser shotgun was only a couple of feet from his back.

Desi shot up to her feet, knocking Silent Apocalypse's blaster arm away, so it was no longer pointing a gun at her. "Now!" she shouted, and the electric 'thwang' of Diva's shotgun sang out, sending Apocalypse crumpling to the floor. Suddenly, Desi started breathing again, heavily. She hadn't even been aware that she stopped. The first thing to come tumbling out of her mouth was not the most intellectual thought she had ever had. "I can see why you use that shotgun, Diva. The 'pew-pew' of a laser doesn't sound half as bad-ass in moments like these."

"No shit. By the way, you can call me Gunmetal, or Gunner." The Killjoy girl stuck the shotgun back into the holster on her back, and extended a hand. "It was nice saving you life, Destroya."

"You can do it again, any time." Desi said, and then cocked her head to the side. "Wait, how the hell were you so silent in those work boots?"

Gunmetal Diva laughed. "I was a country girl who grew up in the Northwest farming Zones where BL/ind grows all the food they stick in those ugly little flavorless cans. With the livestock we watched and the farming equipment we handled, we couldn't take Medication. It's got side effects of weak attention span, apathy, and a general shittiness at handling dangerous equipment or crisis-like situations." She smiled to herself. "I was a spunky girl, and I had enough in me to sneak out and come down here when the Fabulous Killjoys started rallying.

"But, back to your question, it's in my blood. I'm part Cherokee, even though I look nothing like it. And, growing up on a farm, as automated as it was, nothing beats a human hand helping out, and creatures can be skittish until you befriend them. Being quiet is a useful trait."

Desi laughed. "Okay, that makes sense. Now let's go free the kids."

As it turned out, Bubblegum and Rasta were already on it. Crash Rebel showed up, and ran straight for the strawberry-blonde little girl. Desi had figured she was Smash Trouble, from her eyes. Rasta scooped up the unconscious Fanta, and came over to Desi. "Let's radio in to Manic and tell her we found them."

Desi pulled out her walkie from her jacket, and pressed the 'call' button. The walkie trilled in her hand, and she knew all the other walkies in range did as well. "Yes?" Manic Phantom's voice crackled through the speaker.

"We got lucky and found them. We're headed back to the central warehouse, and we'll fill you in when we get there."

"Are you shitting me?" Manic exclaimed.

"Not at all. See you soon."

When they walked into the central warehouse, Manic quickly met them near the door. "Dr. D pulled strings in the hacker network to reach the other groups who were out of walkie range. We'll wait for them to show up. In the mean time, lets check these kids out and get them back to their groups.

Fanta woke up shortly after that, suddenly, probably resuming the angry ramble the Silent Apocalypse had pistol-whipped her to silence. "—kill you, you mother-fecking creepy ass kidnapper dude! You may have _me_ subdued, but wait 'til the cavalry shows up! Killjoys stick together and Killjoys never die!"

Rasta had just laid her down on the mattress she usually slept on (in the floor of the central warehouse, where all the extra rowdy ones were requested to be. He gently nudged her, waiting for her to realize where she was.

"What do YOU want?" Fanta burst out at him.

"Well, I would like to tell you that we got really lucky and found the 'mother-feckikng creepy ass kidnapper dude'. We took him down while you were out. Desi and I used to know him, sadly." Rasta replied.

"Well, isn't that just great? Now I look like some helpless kid." She pouted.

"Would you rather be tortured, drowned, and left under a pier for us to find, if we're lucky?" Desi snapped, frustrated with Fanta's anti-authority complex and ego.

Fanta sobered. "No." Desi's stomach dropped. A lot of the time, the big, brave Killjoy act was a distraction from all of the crappy stuff that Killjoys had to worry about. She should have considered that before she yelled at Fanta.

"Argh! I'm sorry I got you down, Killjoy." Desi apologized, and then headed back to the target range. She wanted something to shoot at until the other groups returned.

When she got there, Shasta was talking with a Killjoy Desi had not met yet. He had a stockier build than the average scrawny Killjoy, like Jet Star, and was much taller than Desi. "Back straight, Raver. We know you're tall, but you don't have to stoop to shoot the short guys." The Killjoy's spine straightened. He wore black cargo pants, the pockets obviously sewn on after they were made, because every pocket was its own bright color.

"I told you to stop shooting with one arm, until you have made more progress on your aim. Yes, it may be bad-ass looking and a typical Killjoy thing. But it's a higher level skill." His tank top was fluorescent purple, and he wore a black and white checked scarf, with tassle-fringe and all, loosely draped around his neck. A gold ring dangled out of the one ear she could see, and his hair was a shaggy-cut, purple-black mop, with an aqua blue streak extending from his temple.

"I remember learning to shoot." Desi said, walking over. "Rasta was ecstatic that I had a natural talent. When a Killjoy is allowed to handle a gun at about four, and can usually shoot well around the age of six, teaching a barely sixteen year-old girl from scratch is rough."

Shasta laughed. "This kid had rage issues, and Mama Killjoy gave him a big-ass bowie knife. Told him, 'if you're gonna be trigger-happy, we'll teach you why a gun should be respected.' So, now he's a master of hand-to-hand, and nervy as heck with a blaster and can't hit the broadside of this warehouse."

"Hey, when did you guys get back?" Desi asked. Shasta and Candy had been leading their own search group.

"We were the team to search outside the warehouse district. We all came in a little before Fanta was awake." Shasta replied.

The tall Killjoy turned to face Desi and cracked a smile that reminded her way too much of the infectious smiles of Fun Ghoul and Rasta Blasta. "Nice to meet you, Miss Destroya," he started, laying on the manners. "I'm Ultraviolent Raver." He extended a hand for her to shake, but the classy moment was ruined when his other hand didn't grip his blaster right and it clattered to the floor.

Desi grinned to herself, and knelt to grab the gun. "Here you go," she said, handing him the blaster as she stood.

Shasta suddenly smacked the Killjoy upside the back of his head. "Focus, Killjoy. Flirting won't get you any points. Not with me, and not with her, especially when you can't hold a blaster one-handed without thinking so hard your ears smoke." Raver's brow crinkled, showing his embarrassment. Shasta turned to Desi. "He flirts with anything smarter than a mushy, honey. And knowing you've a got a man, one who nearly shot Fun Ghoul to make sure he wasn't chasing you, probably won't change a thing."

Raver smirked. "Probably not."

"Well, then I hope you get used to having Rasta Blasta chase you off." Desi warned.

A whistle suddenly resounded through the warehouse, and Desi turned to see Fun Ghoul with his hands in his mouth. _The boys were here._ She and Shasta quickly walked over to where the four men and Manic Phantom were gathered.

"It sounds like you got lucky, kid." Jet Star started. "Tell us what happened."

"Well, we were just scouting the warehouses, and when we got near the last one, where… the kidnapper was," Desi couldn't say Silent Apocalypse's name out loud just yet. "Rasta got this terrible gut feeling. He used to get them sometimes when my crew would go on a sketchy mission. He couldn't resist the idea that something would go wrong, so he always called the mission off.

"We decided that we had to go in there, anyway. We all surrounded the building and went in the way we had been doing it the past few times. Most of the doors were locked, but we expected the kidnapper to run. We were wrong. Apparently, only the front door was unlocked, and Gunmetal Diva and Bubblegum Rocket managed to pick their lock when they discovered I had no back-up, and hadn't come out for a few minutes.

"When I went in, I found Silent Apocalypse. He was a fairly dark and silent Killjoy when I knew him. Scared the piss out of me, only ever told me two words in the almost two years I was with the crew: his name. He never seemed to be as cold and ruthless when we were dealing with females or children, so I thought maybe he wasn't all bad.

"I was wrong. He had been set up in his warehouse, with that… tank," Desi forced herself to say the word. "For months. He had been taking children, quietly, since you had a couple thousand Killjoys here. He would take them, torture them, and drown them. I don't know what he thought he was saving them from, but that's what he thought he was doing. He left the bodies tangled under the piers, to find or not."

Desi paused, collecting her thoughts. "Apparently, he was bored with 'being so good at what he does' and wanted to get your attention. He had also heard that I was in town. It seems that he's had a huge grudge against me since I came out of Battery City." she swallowed, bracing herself for the judgement that everyone would send her way.

"He insisted that I can't be a Killjoy, that my story is false, that I'm a spy, and I've got surveillance hardwired into my sensory input. He believed that I'm a spy, sent with a time-released post-hypnotic suggestion designed to get me to kill the Fabulous Killjoys—" Desi looked around at the four men in front of her as she said those two words, lingering on Kobra Kid, and Party Poison. "And kill them. Destroy the Killjoy's strongest hope, from the inside. Assassinate their superheroes, and make them feel vulnerable. Killjoys never die? Tell that to someone after the Fabulous Killjoys are gone."

"You know, I see his point. But, there are loopholes. To my knowledge, BL/ind cannot alter memories. I never underwent anesthetic surgery while in Battery City, I can't have been wired up like a human spy camera. I clearly remember hearing the radio, and struggling to decide if I would stay or go. Helena's blood or not, they never could have proven that I would leave, choose to be a Killjoy, or even make it out of the city alive."

"Are you done?" Party Poison asked, his voice cold. Something even more was roiling around inside that angry mind of his now. Desi didn't know if it would condemn her in his eyes, or save her. The latter was unlikely, even if Silent Apocalypse's idea didn't make him hate her more.

"Yes, that's all I had to say."

"Okay, please leave, the guys and I need to discuss some stuff."

Desi straightened her spine and calmly left the warehouse. _Never let 'em see you crack. _Rasta, who had joined the group just as she started to explain everything that had happened before Gunmetal Diva killed Silent Apocalypse, chased after her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she replied, her voice giving her worry away.

"I told you that you would never make a great liar." Rasta said, half smiling. "Come on, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm afraid, Rasta. I'm terrified."

"Of what?" the look on Rasta's face told her of his concern. His eyes seemed to tell her, _you're my fearless crash queen. Nothing should ever make you scared, and if it does, I want to kill it._

"I'm afraid, afraid that Silent Apocalypse is right. I'm terrified that BL/ind really can alter memories."

Desi had been telling her fears to the grimy L.A. street under her beaten-up combat boots. Now, she looked up at Rasta, her ocean-blue eyes peeking out from under her fringey bangs.

"Rasta, I'm scared that I'm a spy sent to kill the Fabulous Killjoys."


End file.
